University  of  California  •  Berkeley 

Gift  of 
ROBERT  EASTON 


THE  TEN-FOOT  CHAIN 


OR  CAN  LOVE  SURVIVE  THE  SHACKLES? 


"WHEN  i  LOOK  INTO  YOUR  FACE  THE  SUN  RISES  AND 

THE  BOAT  OF  MY  LIFE  ROCKS  ON  THE  DANCING 
WAVES  OF  PASSION." 


THE 
TEN- FOOT  CHAIN 


OR 


CAN  LOVE  SURVIVE 
THE  SHACKLES? 


A  UNIQUE  SYMPOSIUM 
BY 

ACHMED   ABDULLAH 

MAX   BRAND 

E.  K.  MEANS 

P.  P.  SHEEHAN 


REYNOLDS  PUBLISHING  COMPANY,  INC. 
NEW  YORK 

1920 


Cofyiifht  IQ20 
REYNOLDS  PUB.  CO.    Inc. 


Copyright  IQ20 
THE  FRANK  A.  MUNSEY  CO. 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

INTRODUCTION n 

FIRST  TALE 

AN  INDIAN  JATAKA 17 

By  Achmed  Abdullah 

SECOND  TALE  ., 

OUT  OF  THE  DARK 45    * 

By  Max  Brand 

THIRD  TALE 

PLUMB  NAUSEATED 81 

By  E.  K.  Means 

FOURTH  TALE 

PRINCESS  OR  PERCHERON 127 

By  Perley  P.  Sheehan 


INTRODUCTION 

SOME  time  ago  I  was  dining  with  four  dis- 
tinguished writers.  Needless  to  say 
where  two  or  three  authors  are  gathered 
together  with  a  sympathetic  editor  in  their 
midst,  the  flood-gates  of  fancy  are  opened 
wide. 

In  an  inspired  moment,  Dr.  Means  tossed 
this  "tremendous  trifle"  into  the  center  of  the 
table:  "What  mental  and  emotional  reaction 
would  a  man  and  a  woman  undergo,  linked 
together  by  a  ten- foot  chain,  for  three  days 
and  nights?"  The  query  precipitated  an  up- 
roar. 

Captain  Abdullah  stepped  into  the  arena  at 
once,  and  with  that  elan  of  the  heart,  which  is 
bred  only  in  the  Orient,  declared  if  the  man 
and  the  woman  really  loved  one  another,  no 
chain  could  be  riveted  too  close  or  too  endur- 
ing to  render  onerous  its  existence.  For 
through  this  world  and  the  next,  love  would 
hold  these  twain  in  ever  deeper  and  tenderer 

embrace.         < 

ir 


INTRODUCTION 


Then  the  doctor,  who  claims  he  cuts  nearer 
to  the  realities,  insisted  no  emotion  could  bear 
such  a  physical  impact.  The  reaction  from  such 
an  imposed  contact  would  leave  love  bereft  of 
life,  strangled  in  its  own  golden  mesh.  Max 
Brand  begged  to  differ  with  both  of  his  fellow 
craftsmen.  With  the  cold  detachment  of  a 
mind  prepared  to  see  all  four  sides  of  an  ob- 
ject and  with  no  personal  animus  of  either 
prejudice  or  prepossession,  Mr.  Brand  averred 
no  blanker  conclusion  covered  the  case  in  ques- 
tion but  in  any  given  instance,  the  multiple 
factors  of  heredity,  environment,  habit,  and 
temperament,  would  largely  determine  the  final 
state  of  both  the  man  and  the  woman. 

Hereupon,  Perley  Poore  Sheehan,  the  fourth 
member  of  the  writing  fraternity  present,  in- 
sisted on  a  hearing.  Mr.  Sheehan,  nothing 
daunted  by  the  naturally  polygamous  instincts 
of  the  male  heart,  insisted  a  good  man,  once 
in  love.,  would  and  could  discount  the  handicap 
of  a  ten-foot  chain,  since  love  was  after  all,  as 
others  have  contended,  not  the  whole  of  a 
man's  life.  To  be  sure  it  was  an  integral  need, 
a  recurrent  appetite;  the  glamour  and  the 
glory,  if  you  like,  enfolding  with  its  overshad- 
12 


INTRODUCTION 


owing  wings  his  house  of  happiness.  As  for 
the  woman — well,  we  will  let  Mr.  Sheehan  re- 
port, in  person,  his  conviction  as  to  the  stability 
of  her  attachment. 

The  editor,  whose  business  it  is  to  keep  an 
open  mind,  scarcely  felt  equal  to  the  responsi- 
bility of  passing  judgment,  where  experts  dif- 
fered. But  the  discussion  presented  an  oppor- 
tunity which  he  felt  called  upon  to  develop. 
Therefore,  each  of  the  four  authors  was  in- 
vited to  present  his  conclusions  in  fiction  form, 
the  four  stories  to  be  published  under  the  gen- 
eral caption  "The  Ten-Foot  Chain."  Here- 
with we  are  printing  this  unique  symposium, 
one  of  the  most  original  series  ever  presented. 

Naturally,  the  stories  are  bound  to  provoke 
opinion  and  raise  discussion.  The  thesis  in 
the  form  presented  by  Dr.  Means  is  quite 
novel,  but  the  underlying  problem  of  the  sta- 
bility of  human  affections,  is  as  old  as  the  heart 
of  man.  Wasn't  it  that  prosaic  but  wise  old 
poet,  Alexander  Pope,  who  compared  our 
minds  to  our  watches  ?  "No  two  go  just  alike, 
yet  each  believes  his  own." 


FIRST  TALE 

AN  INDIAN  JATAKA 

BY  ACHMED  ABDULLAH 


THE   TEN-FOOT   CHAIN 


FIRST  TALE 

AN  INDIAN  JATAKA 

BY  ACHMED  ABDULLAH 

This  is  the  tale  which  Jehan  Tugluk 
Khan,  a  wise  man  in  Tartary,  and  milk 
brother  to  Ghengiz  Khan,  Emperor  of  the 
East  and  the  North,  and  Captain  General 
of  the  Golden  Horde,  whispered  to  the 
Foolish  Virgin  who  came  to  him,  bringing 
the  purple,  spiked  flower  of  the  Kadam- 
tree  as  an  offering,  and  begging  him  for 
a  love  potion  with  which  to  hold  Haydar 
Khan,  a  young,  red-faced  warrior  from 
the  west  who  had  ridden  into  camp,  a 
song  on  his  lips,  a  woman's  breast  scarf 
tied  to  his  tufted  bamboo  lance,  a  necklace 
of  his  slain  foes'  skulls  strung  about  his 
massive  chest,  and  sitting  astride  a  white 
stallion  whose  mane  was  dyed  crimson  in 
sign  of  strife  and  whose  dainty,  dancing 
feet  rang  on  the  rose-red  marble  pavement 
of  the  emperor's  courtyard  like  crystal 
bells  in  the  wind  of  spring. 

This  is  a  tale  of  passion,  and,  by  the 
T  c— 2  17 


THE   TEN-FOOT   CHAIN 

same  token,  a  tale  of  wisdom.  For,  in 
the  yellow,  placid  lands  east  of  the  Urals 
and  west  of  harsh,  sneering  Pekin,  it  is 
babbled  by  the  toothless  old  women  who 
know  life,  that  wisdom  and  desire  are 
twin  sisters  rocked  in  the  same  cradle: 
one  speaks  while  the  other  sings.  They 
say  that  it  is  the  wisdom  of  passion  which 
makes  eternal  the  instinct  of  love. 

This  is  the  tale  of  Vasantasena,  the 
slave  who  was  free  in  her  own  heart,  and 
of  Madusadan,  a  captain  of  horse,  who 
plucked  the  white  rose  without  fearing  the 
thorns. 

This,  finally,  is  the  tale  of  Vikramavati, 
King  of  Hindustan  in  the  days  of  the 
Golden  Age,  when  Surya,  the  Sun, 
warmed  the  fields  without  scorching; 
when  Vanyu,  the  Wind,  filled  the  air  with 
the  pollen  of  the  many  fiowers  without 
stripping  the  trees  bear  of  leaves;  when 
Varuna,  Regent  of  Water,  sang  through 
the  land  without  destroying  the  dykes  or 
drowning  the  lowing  cattle  and  the  little 
naked  children  who  played  at  the  river's 
bank;  when  Prithwi,  the  Earth,  sustained 
18 


THE   TEN-FOOT   CHAIN 

all  and  starved  none;  when  Chandra,  the 
Moon,  was  as  bright  and  ripening  as  his 
elder  brother,  the  Sun. 

LET  ALL  THE  WISE  CHILDREN 
LISTEN  TO  MY  JATAKA! 

VASANTASENA  was  the  girl's  name, 
and  she  came  to  young  King  Vikrama- 
vati's  court  on  the  tenth  day  of  the  dark 
half  of  the  month  Bhadra.  She  came  as  be- 
fitted a  slave  captured  in  war,  with  her  henna- 
stained  feet  bound  together  by  a  thin,  golden 
chain,  her  white  hands  tied  behind  her  back 
with  ropes  of  pearls,  her.  slim  young  body  cov- 
ered with  a  silken  robe  of  the  sad  hue  of  the 
tamala  flower,  in  sign  of  mourning  for 
Dharma,  her  father,  the  king  of  the  south,  who 
had  fallen  in  battle  beneath  the  steel-shod  tusks 
of  the  war  elephants. 

She  knelt  before  the  peacock  throne,  and 
Vikramavati  saw  that  her  face  was  as  beauti- 
ful as  the  moon  on  the  fourteenth  day,  that  her 
black  locks  were  like  female  snakes,  her  'waist 
like  the  waist  of  a  she-lion,  her  arms  like  twin 
marble  columns  blue-veined,  her  skin  like  the 
19 


THE   TEN-FOOT   CHAIN 

sweetly    scented    champaka    flower,    and   her 
breasts  as  the  young  tinduka  fruit. 

He  looked  into  her  eyes  and  saw  that  they 
were  of  a  deep  bronze  color,  gold  flecked,  and 
with  pupils  that  were  black  and  opaque — eyes 
that  seemed  to  hold  all  the  wisdom,  all  the 
secret  mockery,  the  secret  knowledge  of  wom- 
anhood —  and  his  hand  trembled,  -  and  he 
thought  in  his  soul  that  the  bountiful  hand  of 
Sravanna,  the  God  of  Plenty,  had  been  raised 
high  in  the  western  heaven  at  the  hour  of  her 
birth. 

"Remember  the  words  of  the  Brahmin," 
grumbled  Deo  Singh,  his  old  prime  minister 
who  had  served  his  father  before  him  and  who 
was  watching  him  anxiously,  jealously. 
"  'Woman  is  the  greatest  robber  of  all.  For 
other  robbers  steal  property  which  is  spiritu- 
ally worthless,  such  as  gold  and  diamonds; 
while  woman  steals  the  best — a  man's  heart, 
and  soul,  and  ambition,  and  strength.'  Re- 
member, furthermore,  the  words  of — " 

"Enough  croakings  for  the  day,  Leaky- 
Tongue!"  cut  in  Vikramavati,  with  the  inso- 
lent rashness  of  his  twenty-four  years.  "Go 
home  to  your  withered  beldame  of  a  wife  and 

20 


THE   TEN-FOOT   CHAIN 

pray  with  her  before  the  altar  of  unborn  chil- 
dren, and  help  her  clean  the  household  pots. 
This  is  the  season  when  I  speak  of  love!" 

"Whose  love — yours  or  the  girl's  ?"  smiling- 
ly asked  Madusadan,  captain  of  horse,  a  man 
ten  years  the  king's  senior,  with  a  mocking, 
bitter  eye,  a  great,  crimson  mouth,  a  crunch- 
ing chest,  massive,  hairy  arms,  the  honey  of 
eloquence  on  his  tongue,  and  a  mind  that  was 
a  deer  in  leaping,  a  cat  in  climbing.  Men  dis- 
liked him  because  they  could  not  beat  him  in 
joust  or  tournament;  and  women  feared  him 
because  the  purity  of  his  life,  which  was  an 
open  book,  gave  the  lie  to  his  red  lips  and  the 
slow-eddying  flame  in  his  hooded,  brown  eyes. 
"Whose  love,  wise  king?" 

But  the  latter  did  not  hear. 

He  dismissed  the  soldiers  and  ministers  and 
courtiers  with  an  impatient  gesture,  and 
stepped  down  from  his  peacock  throne. 

"Fool!"  said  Madusadan,  as  he  looked 
through  a  slit  in  the  curtain  from  an  inner 
room  and  saw  that  the  king  was  raising  Vas- 
antasena  to  her  feet;  saw,  too,  the  derisive 
patience  in  her  golden  eyes. 

"A   fool — though   a  king  versed  in   state- 

21 


THE   TEN-FOOT   CHAIN 

craft !"  he  whispered  into  the  ear  of  Shivadevi, 
Vasantasena's  shriveled,  gnarled  hill  nurse 
who  had  followed  her  mistress  into  captivity. 

"Thee!  A  fool  indeed!"  cackled  the  old 
nurse  as,  side  by  side  with  the  captain  of  horse, 
she  listened  to  the  tale  of  love  the  king  was 
spreading  before  the  slave  girl's  narrow,  white 
feet,  as  Kama-Deva,  the  young  God  of  Pas- 
sion, spread  the  tale  of  his  longing  before  Rati, 
his  wife,  with  the  voice  of  the  cuckoo,  the 
humming-bee  in  mating  time,  and  the  southern 
breeze  laden  with  lotus, 

"You  came  to  me  a  slave  captured  among 
the  crackling  spears  of  battle,"  said  Vikra- 
mavati,  "and  behold,  it  is  I  who  am  the  slave. 
For  your  sake  I  would  sin  the  many  sins.  For 
the  sake  of  one  of  your  precious  eyelashes  I 
would  spit  on  the  names  of  the  gods  and 
slaughter  the  holy  cow.  You  are  a  light  shin- 
ing in  a  dark  house.  Your  body  is  a  garden 
of  strange  and  glorious  flowers  which  I 
gather  in  the  gloom.  I  feel  the  savor  and 
shade  of  your  dim  tresses,  and  think  of  the 
home  land  where  the  hill  winds  sweep. 

"My  love  for  you  is  as  the  soft  sweetness  of 
wild  honey  which  the  bees  of  the  forest  have 

22 


THE   TEN-FOOT   CHAIN 

gathered  among  the  perfumed  asoka  flowers 
— sweet  and  warm,  but  with  a  sharp  after- 
taste to  prick  the  tongue  and  set  the  body 
eternally  longing.  To  hold  you  I  would  throw 
a  noose  around  the  far  stars.  I  give  you  all  I 
have,  all  I  am,  all  I  shall  ever  be,  and  it  would 
not  be  the  thousandth  part  of  my  love  for  you. 
See !  My  heart  is  a  carpet  for  your  little  lisp- 
ing feet.  Step  gently,  child!" 

Vasantasena  replied  never  a  word.  With 
unwinking,  opaque  eyes,  she  stared  beyond  the 
king,  at  a  slit  in  the  curtain  which  separated 
the  throne-room  from  the  inner  apartment. 
For  through  the  embroidered  folds  of  the  bro- 
cade, a  great,  hairy,  brown,  high-veined  hand 
was  thrust,  the  broad  thumb  wagging  mock- 
ingly, meaningly,  like  a  shadow  of  fate. 

And  she  remembered  the  huge  star  sapphire 
set  in  hammered  silver  that  twinkled  on  the 
thumb  like  a  cresset  of  passion.  She  remem- 
bered how  that  hand  had  plucked  her  from 
amidst  the  horses'  trampling  feet  and  the 
sword-rimmed  wheels  of  the  war-chariots  as 
she  crouched  low  above  her  father's  body.  She 
remembered  the  voice  that  had  come  to  her, 
clear  through  the  clamor  and  din  of  battle,  the 
23 


THE   TEN-FOOT   CHAIN 

braying  of  the  conches,  the  neighing  of  the 
stallions,  the  shrill,  angry  trumpeting  of  the 
elephants — 

A  voice  sharp,  compelling,  bitter — 

"Captive  to  my  bow  and  spear,  little  flower, 
but  a  slave  for  the  king,  my  master.  For  such 
is  the  law  of  Hind.  He  will  love  you — not  be- 
ing altogether  a  fool.  But  perhaps  you  will 
not  love  him.  Being  but  a  stammering  virgin 
boy,  perhaps  he  will  heap  your  lap  with  all  the 
treasures  in  the  world.  Being  an  honest  gen- 
tleman, perhaps  he  will  treat  you  with  respect 
and  tenderness,  with  the  sweet  fairness  of  the 
blessed  gods.  And  perhaps — even  then — you 
will  not  love  him,  little  flower. 

"Perhaps  you  will  turn  to  the  captain  of 
horse  as  the  moon  rises  like  a  bubble  of  passion 
from  the  deep  red  of  the  sunset.  Perhaps  you 
will  read  the  meaning  of  the  koel-bird's  love- 
cry,  the  secret  of  the  jessamine's  scent,  the 
sweet,  throbbing,  winglike  call  of  all  the  un- 
born children  in  the  heart  and  body  and  soul 
of  Madusadan,  captain  of  horse." 

"A  bold  man,  this  captain  of  horse!"  Vasan- 
tasena  had  smiled  through  her  tears,  through 
the  savage  clang  of  battle. 
24 


THE   TEN-FOOT   CHAIN 

"A  reckless  man — yet  a  humble  man,  little 
flower.  Reckless  and  humble  as  the  moist 
spring  monsoon  that  sweeps  over  the  young 
shoots  of  bluish-white  rice.  For" — here  he 
had  put  her  in  front  of  him,  on  the  curve  of 
the  peaked,  bossed  saddle — "will  the  rice  ripen 
to  the  touch  of  the  savage,  clamoring  mon- 
soon?" 

And  he  had  drawn  slightly  away  from  her. 
He  had  not  even  kissed  her,  though  they  were 
shielded  from  all  the  world  by  the  folds  of  the 
great  battle  flag  that  was  stiff  with  gold,  stiffer 
with  darkening  gore.  In  the  fluttering  heart 
of  Vasantasena  rose  a  great  longing  for  this 
insolent  warrior  who  spoke  of  love  —  and 
touched  her  not. 


This  is  the  tale  of  the  grape  that  is 
never  pressed,  that  never  loses  its  sweet- 
ness, though  white  hands  squeeze  its  pulp, 
day  after  day,  night  after  night. 

This  is  the  tale  of  the  book  that  is 
never  read  to  the  end,  though  eyes,  moist 
and  smarting  with  longing,  read  its  pages 
till  the  candles  gutter  out  in  the  gray  dawn 

25 


THE   TEN-FOOT   CHAIN 

wind  and  the  young  sun  sings  its  cosmic 
song  out  of  the  East,  purple  and  golden. 
This  is  the  tale  of  love  which  rises  like 
a  mist  of  ineffable  calm,  then  sweeps 
along  on  the  red  wings  of  eternal  desire — 
the  tale  of  love  that  is  a  chain  forged  of 
steel  and  scent,  a  chain  of  unbreakable 
steel  mated  to  the  pollen  of  the  glistening 
areka-flower. 

LET  ALL  THE  WISE  CHILDREN 
LISTEN  TO  MY  JATAKA! 

"SEE!"  said  Shivadevi,  the  old  nurse,  to 
Vasantasena,  who  shimmered  among  the 
green,  silken  cushions  of  her  couch  like  a 
tiger-beetle  in  a  nest  of  fresh  leaves.  "Vikra- 
mavati,  the  king,  has  bowed  low  before  you. 
He  has  removed  from  your  hands  and  ankles 
the  pearl  and  gold  fetters.  He  has  taken  off 
your  robe  of  mourning  and  has  thrown  about 
your  shoulders  a  sari  woven  of  moonbeams 
and  running  water.  He  has  seated  you  beside 
him  on  the  peacock  throne,  as  a  free  woman— 
not  a  slave." 

"Yes,"    replied     Vasantasena.       "He    has 
placed  his  head  and  his  heart  on  the  sill  of 
26 


THE   TEN-FOOT   CHAIN 

the  door  of  love.  He  brought  me  his  soul  as 
an  offering.  And  I" — she  yawned — "I  love 
him  not." 

"He  has  heaped  your  lap  with  many  treas- 
ures," went  on  the  old  woman.  "Jasper  from 
the  Punjab  has  he  brought  to  you,  rubies  from 
Burma,  turquoises  from  Thibet,  star-sapphires 
and  alexandrites  from  Ceylon,  flawless  emer- 
alds from  Afghanistan,  white  crystal  from 
Malwa,  onyx  from  Persia,  amethyst  from  Tar- 
tary,  green  jade  and  white  jade  from  Amoy, 
garnets  from  Bundelkhand,  red  corals  from 
Socotra,  chalcedon  from  Syria,  malachite  from 
Kafiristan,  pearls  from  Ramesvaram,  lapis 
lazuli  from  Jaffra,  yellow  diamonds  from  Poo- 
nah,  black  agate  from  Dynbhulpoor !" 

Vasantasena  shrugged  her  slim  shoulders 
disdainfully. 

"Yes,"  she  said.  "He  put  the  nightingale 
in  a  cage  of  gold  and  exclaimed :  'Behold,  this 
is  thy  native  land !'  Then  he  opened  the  door 
— and  the  nightingale  flew  away  to  the  green 
land,  the  free  land,  never  regretting  the  golden 
cage." 

"He  grovels  before  you  in  the  dust  of  hu- 
mility.    He  says  that  his  life  is  a  blackened 
27 


THE   TEN-FOOT   CHAIN 

crucible  of  sin  and  vanity  and  regret,  but  that 
his  love  for  you  is  the  golden  bead  at  the  bot- 
tom of  the  crucible.  He  has  given  you  free- 
dom. He  has  given  you  friendship.  He  has 
given  you  tenderness  and  affection  and  re- 
spect." 

"Yes,"  smiled  Vasantasena.  "He  has  given 
me  his  everything,  his  all.  Without  cavil, 
without  stint.  Freedom  he  has  given  me,  keep- 
ing the  bitter  water  of  humility  as  his  own 
portion.  But  all  his  generosity,  his  fairness, 
his  humility,  his  decency — all  his  love  has  not 
opened  the  inner  door  to  the  shrine  of  my 
heart.  In  the  night  he  comes,  with  the  flam- 
ing torches  of  his  passion;  but  my  heart  is  as 
cold  as  clay,  as  cold  as  freezing  water  when 
the  snow  wind  booms  down  from  the  Hima- 
layas. The  madness  of  the  storm  and  the 
waves  is  upon  him,  but  there  is  no  answering 
surge  in  the  tide  of  my  soul.  In  my  heart  he 
sees  the  world  golden  and  white  and  flashing 
with  laughter.  In  his  heart  I  see  the  world 
grim  and  drab  and  haggard  and  seamed  with 
tears.  For — generous,  fair,  unstinting — he  is 
also  selfish  and  foolish,  being  a  man  unwise  in 
the  tortuous,  glorious  ways  of  love.  Daily  he 


THE   TEN-FOOT   CHAIN 

tells  me  that  I  am  the  well  of  his  love.  But 
never  does  he  ask  me  if  his  love  is  the  stone 
of  my  contentment." 

"Perhaps  he  does  not  dare,"  cackled  the  old 
nurse. 

"Being  modest?" 

"Yes." 

"Only  the  selfish  are  modest,  caring  naught 
for  the  answering  spark  in  the  heart  of  the 
loved  one.  And  the  love  of  woman  is  de- 
stroyed by  humble  selfishness  as  the  religion  of 
a  Brahmin  by  serving  kings,  the  milk  of  a  cow 
by  distant  pasturage,  and  wealth  by  commit- 
ting injustice.  There  is  no  worth  in  such 
wealth  —  nor  in  such  love.  This  is  Veda- 
truth." 

And  in  a  high,  proud  voice  she  added : 

"I  love  Madusadan,  captain  of  horse.  I  will 
kiss  his  red,  mocking  lips  and  bend  to  the  thrill 
of  his  strong  body.  Pure  he  is  to  all  the  world, 
to  all  women — so  the  bazaar  gossip  says — but 
I,  and  I  alone,  shall  light  the  lamp  of  passion 
in  his  heart.  Free  am  I!  But  the  unsung 
music  in  his  heart  shall  be  a  loved  fetter  around 
mine.  Clasped  in  his  arms,  life  and  death  shall 
unite  in  me  in  an  unbreakable  chain. 
29 


THE   TEN-FOOT   CHAIN 

"I  will  bury  my  hands  deep  in  the  savage, 
tangled  forest  that  is  his  soul  and  follow 
therein  the  many  trails.  I  will  read  the  mes- 
sage of  his  hooded,  brown  eyes,  the  trembling 
message  of  his  great,  hairy  hands.  His  heart 
is  a  crimson  malati-flower,  and  mine  the  tawny 
orchid  spotted  with  purple  that  winds  around 
its  roots." 

"Gray  is  the  hair  on  his  temples.  He  is  the 
king's  senior  by  ten  years." 

"Years  of  wisdom,"  laughed  Vasantasena. 
"Years  of  waiting.  Years  of  garnering 
strength." 

"He  is  not  as  kindly  as  Vikramavati,  nor  as 
great,  nor  as  generous." 

"But  he  is  wise — wise !  He  knows  the  heart 
of  woman — the  essence,  the  innermost  secret 
of  woman." 

"And  that  is—" 

"Patience  in  achieving.  Strength  in  hold- 
ing. Wisdom  in — not  demanding  unless  the 
woman  offers  and  gives  sign." 

And   she   went   out   into   the   garden   that 

stretched  back  of  the  palace  in  wild,  scented 

profusion,    bunching    its    majestic,    columnar 

aisles  of  banyan  figs  as  a  foil  for  the  dainty, 

30 


THE   TEN-FOOT   CHAIN 

pale  green  tracery  of  the  nim-trees,  the  quiver- 
ing, crimson  domes  of  the  peepals  bearded  to 
the  waist  with  gray  and  orange  moss,  where 
the  little,  bold-eye  gekko  lizards  slipped  like 
narrow,  green  flags  through  the  golden,  per- 
fumed fretwork  of  the  chandela  bushes  and 
wild  parrots  screeched  overhead  with  bur- 
nished wings;  and  there  she  met  Madusadan, 
captain  of  horse,  whom  she  had  summoned  by 
a  scribbled  note  earlier  in  the  day,  and  her  veil 
slipped,  and  her  white  feet  were  like  trembling 
flowers,  and  she  pressed  her  red  mouth  on  his 
and  rested  in  his  arms  like  a  tired  child. 


The  road  of  desire  runs  beneath  the 
feet  all  day  and  all  night,  says  the  tale. 
There  is  no  beginning  to  this  road,  nor 
end.  Out  of  the  nowhere  it  comes,  van- 
ishing, yet  never  vanishing  in  the  nowhere; 
renewing  each  morning,  after  nights  of 
love,  the  eternal  miracle,  the  never-ending 
virginity  of  passion. 

You  cannot  end  the  endless  chain  of  it, 
says  the  tale.  You  cannot  hush  the  mur- 
mur of  the  sea  which  fills  the  air,  rising 
31 


THE   TEN-FOOT   CHAIN 


to  the  white,  beckoning  finger  of  Chan- 
dra, the  Moon. 

Love's  play  is  worship. 

Love's  achievement  is  a  rite. 

Love's  secret  is  never  read. 

Always  around  the  corner  is  another 
light,  a  new  light  —  golden,  twinkling, 
mocking,  like  the  will-o'-the-wisp. 

Reach  to  it  —  as  you  never  will  —  and 
there  is  the  end  of  the  chain,  the  end  of 
the  tale. 

LET  ALL  THE  WISE  CHILDREN 
LISTEN  TO  MY  JATAKA! 

"You  broke  your  faith,  faithless  woman!" 
said  Vikramavati  as  he  saw  Vasantasena  in 
the  arms  of  Madusadan,  captain  of  horse. 

The  girl  smiled. 

"It  was  you  who  spoke  of  love,"  she  replied, 
"not  I." 

"I  tried  to  conquer  your  love  by  the  great- 
ness of  my  own  love." 

"As  a  fool  tries  to  take  out  a  thorn  in  his 
foot  by  a  thorn  in  his  hand." 

"I  gave  you  freedom.    I  gave  you  the  wealth 

of   all   Hindustan,    the   wealth   of   the   outer 
32 


THE   TEN-FOOT   CHAIN 


lands.  I  gave  you  my  soul,  my  heart,  my 
body,  my  strength,  my  ambition,  my  faith,  my 
secret  self." 

"You  gave  me  everything — because  you  love 
me.  I  gave  you  nothing — because  I  do  not 
love  you." 

"Love  can  do  the  impossible,"  gravely  said 
the  captain  of  horse,  while  Vasantasena 
nestled  more  closely  to  his  arms.  "It  was  be- 
cause of  love  that  Vishnu,  the  Creator,  changed 
into  a  dwarf  and  descended  to  the  lowermost 
regions,  and  there  captured  Bali,  the  Raja  of 
Heaven  and  of  Earth.  It  was  because  of  love 
that,  as  Ramachandra,  helped  by  the  monkey 
folk,  he  built  a  bridge  between  India  and  Cey- 
lon, and  that,  as  Krishna,  he  lifted  up  the 
great  mountain  Golonddhan  in  the  palm  of  his 
hand  as  an  umbrella  with  which  to  shield  his 
loved  one  against  the  splintering,  merciless 
rays  of  Surya,  the  Sun,  the  jealous,  yellow 
god. 

"Love  can  do  all  things — except  one.  For 
love  can  never  create  love,  wise  king.  Love 
can  force  the  stream  to  flow  up-hill,  but  it  can- 
not create  the  stream  when  there  is  no  water." 

Silence  dropped  like  a  shadow  of  fate,  and 

TC-3  33 


THE  TEN-FOOT   CHAIN 

Vikramavati  turned  slowly  and  walked  toward 
the  palace. 

"To-morrow/'  he  said  over  his  shoulder,  in 
an  even,  passionless  voice,  "you  shall  die  a 
death  of  lingering  agony." 

Madusadan  laughed  lightly. 

"There  is  neither  to-day  nor  to-morrow  nor 
yesterday  for  those  who  love,"  he  replied. 
"There  is  only  the  pigeon-blue  of  the  sunlit 
sky,  the  crimson  and  gold  of  the  harvest-fields, 
the  laughter  of  the  far  waters.  Love  fills  the 
cup  of  infinity." 

"To-morrow  you  will  be  dead,"  the  king  re- 
peated dully. 

And  again  Madusadan  laughed  lightly. 

"And  what  then,  O  wise  king,  trained  in  the 
rigid  logic  of  Brahmin  and  Parohitas?"  he 
asked.  "Will  our  death  do  away  with  the 
fact  that  once  we  lived  and,  living,  loved  each 
other?  Will  the  scarlet  of  our  death  wipe  out 
the  streaked  gray  of  your  jealousy?  Will  our 
death  give  you  the  love  of  Vasantasena,  which 
never  was  yours  in  life?  Will  our  death  rob 
our  souls  of  the  memory  of  the  great  sweet- 
ness which  was  ours,  the  beauty,  the  glory,  the 
never-ending  thrill  of  fulfillment?" 
34 


THE   TEN-FOOT   CHAIN 

"Love  ceases  with  death." 

"Love,  wise  king,  is  unswayed  by  the 
rhythm  of  either  life — or  death.  Love — that 
surges  day  after  day,  night  after  night,  as  year 
after  year  the  breast  of  the  earth  heaves  to  the 
spring  song  of  the  ripening  rice,  to  the  golden 
fruit  of  the  mango  groves. 

"Death?    A  fig  for  it,  wise  king! 

"Let  me  but  live  until  to-morrow  in  the 
arms  of  my  loved  one,  and  the  sweetness  of 
our  love  shall  be  an  unbreakable  chain  —  on 
through  a  thousand  deaths,  a  thousand  new 
births,  straight  into  Nirvana — into  Brahm's 
silver  soul !" 

"Ahee!"  echoed  Vasantasena.  "Let  death 
come  and  the  wind  of  life  lull ;  let  the  light  fail 
and  the  flowers  wilt  and  droop;  let  the  stars 
gutter  out  one  by  one  and  the  cosmos  crumble 
in  the  gray  storm  of  final  oblivion — yet  will 
our  love  be  an  unbreakable  chain,  defying 
you,  O  king — defying  the  world — defying  the 
very  gods — " 

"But  not  defying  the  laws  of  nature,  as  in- 
terpreted by  a  wise  Brahmin!"  a  shrill,  age- 
cracked  voice  broke  in,  and  Deo  Singh,  the  old 
prime  minister  who  had  come  down  the  garden 
35 


THE   TEN-FOOT   CHAIN 

trail  on  silent,  slippered  feet,  stepped  into  the 
open. 

"No!  By  Shiva  and  by  Shiva!  Not  the 
laws  of  nature,  the  enternal  laws  of  logic,  as 
interpreted  by  a  priest  well  versed  in  Sruti  and 
Smriti — in  revelation  and  tradition.  Not  the 
laws  of  nature,  rational  and  evidential,  phys- 
ical and  metaphysical,  analytical  and  synthet- 
ical, philosophical,  and  philological,  as  ex- 
pounded by  a  Parohita  familiar  with  the  Vedas 
and  the  blessed  wisdom  of  the  ancient  Upan- 
ishads  of  Hind!" 

He  salaamed  low  before  Vikramavati. 

"It  is  written  in  the  Bhagavad  Gita,  the 
Book  of  Books,  the  Lay  of  Brahm  the  Lord, 
that  each  crime  shall  find  condign  punishment, 
be  it  committed  by  high  caste  or  low  caste,  by 
prince  or  peasant,  by  raja  or  ryot.  To  each 
his  punishment,  says  the  Karma,  which  is 
fate!" 

"And — these  two?"  demanded  Vikramavati. 
"What  punishment  shall  be  meted  out  to  the 
faithless  woman  and  the  faithless  captain  of 
horse,  Brahmin?" 

Deo  Singh  spread  out  his  fingers  like  the 
sticks  of  a  fan. 

36 


THE   TEN-FOOT   CHAIN 


"They  have  chosen  their  own  sentence,  these 
worshipers  of  Kartikeya,  God  of  Rogues 
and  Rascals,"  he  chuckled.  "Of  a  chain  they 
spoke.  An  unbreakable  chain  that  defies  all 
laws,  except  belike" — again  he  laughed  deep  in 
his  throat — "  the  wise  laws  of  nature.  Weld 
them  together  with  such  a  chain,  forged  by  a 
master  smith,  made  so  strong  that  not  even  a 
tough-thewed  captain  of  horse  may  break  it 
with  the  clouting  muscles  of  his  arms  and 
back.  A  chain,  ten  feet  long,  so  that  they  may 
never  be  far  away  from  each  other,  so  that 
they  may  always  be  able  to  slake  the  hot,  tur- 
bulent thirst  of  love,  so  that  they  may  never 
have  to  wait  for  the  thrill  of  fulfillment  as  a 
beggar  waits  at  life's  feast,  so  that  day  and 
night,  each  hour,  each  minute,  each  second 
they  may  revel  in  the  sunshine  of  their  love, 
so  that  never  they  may  have  to  stand  helpless 
before  the  flood-tide  of  their  desire. 

"Grant  them  their  wish,  O  king,  being  wise 
and  merciful;  and  then  lock  them  into  a  room 
containing  the  choicest  food,  the  sweetest 
drinks,  the  whitest  flowers,  the  softest,  silk- 
enest  couch  draped  with  purple  and  gold.  A 
room  such  as  lovers  dream  of — and  fools! 
37 


THE   TEN-FOOT   CHAIN 

Leave  them  there  together  for  three  days,  three 
nights,  three  sobbing,  crunching,  killing  eterni- 
ties! With  no  sound,  no  touch,  no  scent,  no 
taste,  but  their  own  voices,  their  own  hearts 
and  souls  and  minds  and  bodies!  And  at  the 
end  of  the  three  days " 

"Yes?"  asked  Vikramavati. 

"They  will  have  suffered  the  worst  punish- 
ment, the  worst  agony  on  earth.  Slowly, 
slowly  for  three  days,  three  nights,  three  eter- 
nities, they  will  have  watched  the  honey  of 
their  love  turn,  drop  by  drop,  into  gall.  Their 
passion — slowly,  slowly — will  turn  into  loath- 
ing; their  desire  into  disgust.  For  no  love  in 
the  world  can  survive  the  chain  of  monotony !" 

THUS  it  was  done. 

A  chain  of  unbreakable  steel,  ten  feet  long, 
was  welded  to  the  girl's  right  wrist  and  the 
man's  left,  and  they  were  locked  into  a  house 
— a  house  such  as  lovers  dream  of — that  was 
guarded  day  and  night  by  armed  warriors, 
who  let  none  within  hailing  distance,  whose 
windows  were  shuttered  and  curtained  so  that 
not  even  the  golden  eye  of  the  sun  might  look 
in,  and  around  which  a  vast  circular  clearing 
38 


THE   TEN-FOOT   CHAIN 

had  been  made  with  torch  and  spade  and  scim- 
itar so  that  neither  bird  nor  insect  nor  beast  of 
forest  and  jungle  might  live  there  and  no 
sound  drift  into  the  lovers*  room  except,  per- 
haps, the  crooning  sob  of  the  dawn  wind ;  and  at 
the  end  of  the  third  night  carefully,  stealthily, 
silently  the  king  and  the  Brahmin  walked  up  to 
the  house  and  pressed  their  ears  against  the 
keyhole,  and  they  heard  the  man's  voice  say- 
ing: 

"I  love  you,  little  flower  of  my  happiness! 
I  love  you — you  who  are  all  my  dreams  come 
true!  When  I  look  into  your  face  the  sun 
rises,  and  the  waters  bring  the  call  of  the  deep, 
and  the  boat  of  my  life  rocks  on  the  dancing 
waves  of  passion!" 

And  then  the  girl's  answer,  clear,  serene : 
"And  I  love  you,  Madusadan,  captain  of 
horse!  You  have  broken  the  fetters  of  my 
loneliness,  the  shackles  of  my  longing!  I 
waited,  waited,  waited — but  you  came,  and  I 
shall  never  let  you  go  again!  You  have  ban- 
ished all  the  drab,  sad  dreams  of  the  past !  You 
have  made  your  heart  a  prison  for  my  love, 
and  you  have  tossed  away  the  key  into  the  tur- 
bulent whirlpool  of  my  eternal  desire !" 
39 


THE   TEN-FOOT   CHAIN 

"Did  the  chain  gall  them?"  asked  the 
Foolish  Virgin,  who  had  come  to  Jehan 
Tugluk  Khan,  a  wise  man  in  Tartary  and 
milk  brother  to  Ghengiz  Khan,  Emperor  of 
the  East  and  the  North  and  Captain  Gen- 
eral of  the  Golden  Horde. 

"No,  Foolish  Virgin,"  replied  Jehan 
Tugluk  Khan.  "Their  love  could  not 
have  lived  without  the  chain.  It  was  their 
love  which  WAS  the  chain — made  it,  held 
it,  welded  it,  eternal,  unbreaking,  un- 
breakable. Ten  feet  long  was  the  chain. 
Each  foot  of  steel — eternal,  unbreaking, 
unbreakable  —  was  a  link  of  their  love, 
and  these  links  were:  Passion,  patience, 
completion,  friendship,  tolerance,  under- 
standing, tenderness,  forgiveness,  service, 
humor/' 

This  is  the  end  of  the  tale  of  Vasanta- 
sena,  the  slave  who  was  free  in  her  own 
heart,  and  of  Madusadan,  a  captain  of 
horse,  who  plucked  the  white  rose  without 
fearing  the  thorns. 

And,  says  the  tale,  if  you  would  make 
your  chain  doubly  unbreakable,  add  an- 
other foot  to  it,  another  link.  There  is 
40 


THE   TEN-FOOT   CHAIN 

no  word  for  it.  But,  by  the  strength  and 
sense  of  it,  you  must  never  lull  your  love 
to  sleep  in  the  soft  cradle  of  too  great 
security. 

For  love  demands  eternal  vigilance. 

LISTEN,  0  AZZIA,  0  BELOVED, 
TO  MY  JATAKA! 


41 


SECOND  TALE 

OUT  OF  THE  DARK 

BY  MAX  BRAND 


THE   TEN-FOOT   CHAIN 


SECOND  TALE 

OUT  OF  THE  DARK 

BY  MAX  BRAND 

THE  principality  of  Pornia  is  not  a  large 
country  and  in  the  ordinary  course  of 
history  it  should  have  been  swallowed 
entire,  centuries  ago,  by  one  of  the  kingdoms 
which  surround  it.  Its  situation  has  saved  it 
from  this  fate,  for  it  is  the  buffer  state  between 
two  great  monarchies  whose  jealousy  has  pre- 
served for  Pornia  an  independent  existence. 

Despite  its  independence,  Pornia  has  never 
received  much  consideration  from  the  rest  of 
Europe,  and  the  aim  of  its  princes  for  many 
generations  has  been  to  foist  it  into  the  great 
councils  by  a  strong  alliance  with  one  of  the 
two  kingdoms  to  which  it  serves  as  a  buffer. 

The  long-desired  opportunity  came  at  last 
in  the  reign  of  Alexander  VI,  who,  one  morn- 
ing, commanded  Rudolph  of  Herzvina  to  ap- 
pear at  the  palace.  As  soon  as  the  worthy  old 
baron  appeared,  Alexander  spoke  to  him  as 
follows:  "Rudolph,  you  are  an  old  and  re- 
45 


THE   TEN-FOOT   CHAIN 

spected  counselor,  a  devoted  servant  of  the 
State,  and  therefore  I  am  delighted  to  an- 
nounce that  the  greatest  honor  is  about  to  de- 
scend upon  your  family,  an  honor  so  great 
that  the  entire  State  of  Pornia  will  be  elevated 
thereby.  The  Crown  Prince  Charles  wishes  to 
make  your  daughter  his  wife!" 

At  this  he  stepped  back,  the  better  to  note 
the  joy  with  which  old  Rudolph  would  receive 
this  announcement,  but,  to  his  astonishment, 
the  baron  merely  bowed  his  head  and  sighed. 

"Your  highness,"  said  Rudolph  of  Herz- 
vina,  "I  have  long  known  of  the  attachment 
which  the  crown  prince  has  for  my  daughter, 
Bertha,  but  I  fear  that  the  marriage  can  never 
be  consummated." 

"Come,  come !"  said  the  prince  genially.  "It 
is  a  far  leap  indeed  from  Baron  of  Herzvina 
to  father-in-law  to  Prince  Charles,  but  there 
have  been  stranger  things  in  history  than  this, 
though  never  anything  that  could  so  effectually 
elevate  Pornia.  Have  no  fear  of  Charles.  He 
loves  your  daughter ;  he  is  strong-minded  as 
the  very  devil ;  he  will  override  any  opposition 
from  his  father.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  it  is  no 
secret  that  Charles  is  already  practically  the 
46 


THE   TEN-FOOT   CHAIN 


ruler  over  his  kingdom.  So  rejoice,  Herzvina, 
and  I  will  rejoice  with  you!" 

But  the  baron  merely  shook  his  head  sadly 
and  repeated :  "I  fear  the  marriage  can  never 
be  consummated." 

"Why  not?"  said  the  prince  in  some  heat. 
"I  tell  you,  his  royal  highness  loves  the  girl. 
I  could  read  passion  even  in  the  stilted  lan- 
guage of  his  ambassador's  message.  Why 
not?" 

"I  was  not  thinking  of  his  royal  highness, 
but  of  the  girl.  She  will  not  marry  him." 

The  prince  dropped  into  a  chair  with  jarring 
suddenness. 

Rudolph  continued  hastily:  "I  have  talked 
with  Bertha  many  times  and  seriously  of  the 
matter;  I  have  tried  to  convince  her  of  her 
duty;  but  she  will  not  hear  me.  The  foolish 
girl  says  she  does  not  love  his  highness." 

The  prince  smote  his  hands  together  in  an 
ecstasy  of  impatience. 

"Love !  Love !  In  the  name  of  God,  Herz- 
vina, what  has  love  to  to  with  this?  This  is 
the  thing  for  which  Pornia  has  waited  during 
centuries.  Through  this  alliance  I  can  make  a 
treaty  that  will  place  Pornia  once  and  forever 
47 


THE   TEN-FOOT   CHAIN 

upon  the  map  of  the  diplomatic  powers. 
Love!" 

"I  have  said  all  this  to  her,  but  she  is  ob- 
durate/' 

"Does  she  expect  some  fairy  prince?  She 
is  not  a  child;  she  is  not  even — forgive  me — 
beautiful." 

"True.  She  is  not  even  pretty,  but  even 
homely  women,  your  highness,  will  sometimes 
think  of  love.  It  is  a  weakness  of  the  sex." 

He  was  not  satirical ;  he  was  very  earnest  in- 
deed. He  continued :  "I  have  tried  every  per- 
suasion. She  only  says  in  reply:  'He  is  too 
old.  I  cannot  love  him/  ' 

An  inspiration  came  to  Alexander  of  Pornia. 
Under  the  stress  of  it  he  rose  and  so  far  forgot 
himself  as  to  clap  a  hand  upon  the  shoulder  of 
Herzvina.  In  so  doing  he  had  to  reach  up 
almost  as  high  as  his  head,  for  the  princes 
of  Pornia  have  been  small  men,  time  out  of 
mind. 

"Baron,"  he  said,  "will  you  let  me  try  my 
hand  at  persuasion?" 

"It  would  be  an  honor,  sire.  My  family  is 
ever  at  the  disposal  of  my  prince." 

He  answered  with  a  touch  of  emotion:  "I 
48 


THE   TEN-FOOT   CHAIN 

know  it,  Rudolph;  but  will  you  trust  the  girl 
in  my  hands  for  a  number  of  days?  A  thought 
has  come  to  me.  I  know  I  can  convince  her 
that  this  love  of  which  she  dreams  is  a  thing 
of  the  flesh  alone,  a  physical  necessity.  Come, 
send  her  to  me,  and  I  shall  tear  away  her  illu- 
sions. She  will  not  thank  me  for  it,  but  she 
will  marry  the  crown  prince." 

"I  will  send  her  to  the  palace  to-day." 

"Very  good;  and  first  tell  her  why  I  wish  to 
speak  with  her.  It  may  be  that  of  herself  she 
will  change  her  mind  when  she  learns  the 
wishes  of  her  prince.  Farewell." 

And  the  prince  rode  off  to  a  review  of  the 
troops  of  the  city  guard.  So  it  was  that 
'Bertha  of  Herzvina  sat  for  a  long  time  in  a 
lonely  room,  after  her  arrival  at  the  palace  be- 
fore the  door  opened,  a  man  in  livery  bowed 
for  the  entrance  of  the  prince,  and  she  found 
herself  alone  with  her  sovereign. 

Automatically  she  curtsied,  and  he  let  her 
remain  bowed  while  he  slowly  drew  off  his 
white  gloves.  He  still  wore  his  general's  uni- 
form with  the  stiff  padding  which  would  not 
allow  his  body  to  grow  old,  for  a  prince  of 
Pornia  must  always  look  the  soldier. 
TC-4  49 


THE   TEN-FOOT   CHAIN 

"Sit  down,"  he  ordered,  and  as  she  obeyed 
he  commenced  to  walk  the  room. 

He  never  sat  quietly  through  an  interview  if 
he  could  avoid  it;  a  constitutional  weakness  of 
the  nerves  made  it  almost  impossible  for  him 
to  meet  another  person's  eyes.  The  pacing  up 
and  down  gave  a  plausible  reason  for  the  con- 
tinual shifting  of  his  glance. 

"A  good  day,  a  very  good  day,"  he  said. 
"The  hussars  were  wonderful." 

His  shoulders  strained  further  back.  The 
prince  himself  always  rode  at  the  head  of  the 
hussars ;  in  her  childhood  she  had  admired  him. 
He  stopped  at  a  window  and  hummed  a 
marching  air.  That  was  a  planned  maneuver, 
for  his  back  was  far  more  royal  than  his  face, 
with  its  tall  forehead  and  diminutive  mouth 
and  chin.  She  felt  as  if  she  were  in  the  pres- 
ence of  a  uniformed  automaton. 

He  broke  off  his  humming  and  spoke  with- 
out turning. 

"Well?" 

"My  decision  is  unchanged." 

"Impossible!  In  the  length  of  a  whole  day 
even  a  woman  must  think  twice." 

"Yes,  many  times." 
so 


THE   TEN-FOOT   CHAIN 

"You  will  not  marry  him?" 

"I  cannot  love  him." 

He  whirled,  and  the  pale  blue  eyes  flashed 
at  her  a  brief  glance  which  made  her  cringe. 
It  was  as  if  an  X-ray  had  been  turned  on  her 
heart. 

"Love!"  he  said  softly,  and  she  shuddered 
again.  "Because  he  is  old?  Bertha,  you  are 
no  longer  a  child.  Other  women  marry  for 
what  they  may  term  love.  It  is  your  privilege 
to  marry  for  the  State.  That  is  the  nobler 
thing." 

He  smiled  and  nodded,  repeating  for  his 
own  ear :  "The  nobler  thing !  What  is  greater 
than  such  service — what  is  more  glorious  than 
to  forget  self  and  marry  for  the  good  of  the 
thousands  ?" 

"I  have  an  obligation  to  myself." 

"Who  has  filled  you  with  so  many  childish 
ideas?" 

"They  have  grown  of  themselves,  sire." 

The  pacing  up  and  down  the  room  recom- 
menced. "Child,  have  you  no  desire  to  serve 
me?  I  mean,  your  country?" 

She  answered  slowly,  as  if  feeling  for  her 
words :  "It  is  impossible  that  I  should  be  able 
51 


THE   TEN-FOOT   CHAIN 

to  serve  you  through  my  dishonor.  If  I  should 
marry  the  crown  prince,  my  life  would  be  one 
long  sleep,  sire.  I  would  not  dare  awaken  "to 
the  reality." 

His  head  tilted  and  he  laughed  noiselessly. 
A  weakness  of  the  throat  prevented  him  from 
raising  his  voice  even  in  times  of  the  greatest 
excitement. 

"A  soul  that  sleeps,  eh?  The  kiss  of  love 
will  awaken  it?" 

He  surveyed  her  with  brief  disdain. 

"My  dear,  you  scorn  titles,  and  yet  as  an 
untitled  woman  you  are  not  a  match  for  the 
first  red- faced  tradesman's  daughter.  Stand 
up!" 

She  rose  and  he  led  he,r  in  front  of  a  pier 
glass.  Solemnly  he  studied  her  pale  image. 

"A  sleeping  soul !"  he  repeated. 

She  covered  her  face. 

"Will  that  bait  catch  the  errant  lover, 
Bertha?" 

"God  will  make  up  the  difference." 

He  cursed  softly.  She  had  not  known  he 
could  be  so  moved. 

"Poor  child,  let  me  talk  with  you." 

He  led  her  back  to  a  chair  almost  with  kind- 
52 


THE   TEN-FOOT   CHAIN 


ness  and  sat  somewhat  behind  her  so  that  he 
need  not  meet  her  eyes. 

"This  love  you  wait  for — it  is  not  a  full- 
grown  god,  dear  girl,  but  a  blind  child.  Given 
a  man  and  a  woman  and  a  certain  propinquity, 
and  nature  does  the  rest.  We  put  a  mask  on 
nature  and  call  it  love,  we  name  an  abstraction 
and  call  it  God.  Love!  Love!  Love!  It  is 
a  pretty  disguise — no  more.  Do  you  under- 
stand?" 

"I  will  not." 

She  listened  to  his  quick  breathing. 

"Bertha,  if  I  were  to  chain  you  with  a  ten- 
foot  chain  to  the  first  man  off  the  streets  and 
leave  you  alone  with  him  for  three  days,  what 
would  happen?" 

Her  hand  closed  on  the  arm  of  the  chair. 
He  rose  and  paced  the  room  as  his  idea  grew. 

"Your  eyes  would  criticize  him  and  your 
shame  would  fight  in  behalf  of  your — soul? 
And  the  sight  of  your  shame  would  keep  the 
man  in  check.  But  suppose  the  room  were 
dark — suppose  you  could  not  see  his  face  and 
merely  knew  that  a  man  was  there — suppose  he 
could  not  see  and  merely  knew  that  a  woman 
was  there  ?  What  would  happen  ?  Would  it  be 
53 


THE   TEN-FOOT   CHAIN 

love?  Pah!  Love  is  no  more  deified  than 
hunger.  If  it  is  satisfied,  it  goes  to  sleep;  if  it 
is  satiated,  it  turns  to  loathing.  Aye,  at  the  end 
of  ;the  three  days  you  would  be  glad  enough 
to  have  the  ten- foot  chain  cut.  But  first  what 
would  happen?" 

The  vague  terror  grew  coldly  in  her,  for  she 
could  see  the  idea  taking  hold  of  him  like  a 
hand. 

"If  I  were  to  do  this,  the  world  might  term 
it  a  shameful  thing,  but  I  act  for  Pornia — not 
for  myself.  I  consider  only  the  good  of  the 
State.  By  this  experiment  I  prove  to  you  that 
love  is  not  God,  but  blind  nature.  Yes,  and 
if  you  knew  it  as  it  is,  would  you  oppose  me 
longer?  The  thought  grows  upon  me! 
Speak !" 

Her  smile  made  her  almost  beautiful. 

"Sire,  in  all  the  world  there  is  only  one  man 
for  every  woman." 

"Book  talk." 

He  set  his  teeth  because  he  could  not  meet 
her  eyes. 

"And  who  will  bring  you  this  one  man  ?" 

"God." 

Once  more  the  soundless  laugh. 
54 


THE   TEN-FOOT   CHAIN 

"Then  I  shall  play  the  part  of  God.  Bertha, 
you  must  now  make  your  decision :  a  marriage 
for  the  good  of  the  State,  or  the  ten-foot  chain, 
the  dark  room — and  love!" 

"Even  you  will  not  dare  this,  sire." 

"Bertha,  there  is  nothing  I  do  not  dare. 
What  would  be  known?  I  give  orders  that 
this  room  be  utterly  darkened;  I  send  secret 
police  to  seize  a  man  from  the  city  at  random 
and  fetter  him  to  a  chain  in  that  room ;  then  I 
bring  you  to  the  room  and  fasten  you  to  the 
other  end  of  the  chain,  and  for  three  days 
I  have  food  introduced  into  the  room.  Re- 
sults ?  For  the  man,  death ;  for  you,  a  knowl- 
edge first  of  yourself  and,  secondly,  of  love. 
The  State  will  benefit." 

"It  is  bestial— incredible." 

"Bestial?  Tut!  I  play  the  part  of  God  and 
even  surpass  Him.  I  put  you  face  to  face  with 
a  temptation  through  which  you  shall  come  to 
know  yourself.  You  lose  a  dream;  you  gain 
a  fact.  It  is  well.  Shame  will  guard  the  se- 
cret in  your  heart — and  the  State  will  benefit. 
Still  you  see  that  I  am  paternal — merciful.  I 
do  not  punish  you  for  your  past  obstinacy.  I 
still  give  you  a  choice.  Bertha,  will  you  marry 
55 


THE   TEN-FOOT   CHAIN 

as  I  wish,  or  will  you  force  me  to  play  the 
part  of  God  ?" 

"I  shall  not  marry." 

"Ah,  you  will  wait  for  God  to  make  up  the 
difference.  It  is  well — very  well ;  le  Dieu  c'est 
moi.  Ha !  That  is  greater  than  the  phrase  of 
Louis  XIV.  You  shall  have  still  more  time, 
but  the  moment  the  sun  goes  down,  if  I  do  not 
hear  from  you,  I  shall  ring  a  bell  that  will 
send  my  secret  police  out  to  seize  a  man  indis- 
criminately from  the  masses  of  the  city.  I 
shall  not  even  stipulate  that  he  be  young.  My 
trust  in  nature  is — absolute.  Adieu!" 

She  made  up  her  mind  the  moment  he  left 
the  room.  She  drew  on  her  cloak.  Before  the 
pier  glass  she  paused. 

"Aye,"  she  murmured,  "I  could  not  match 
the  first  farmer's  daughter.  But  still  there 
must  be  one  man  in  the  world — and  God  will 
make  up  the  difference!" 

She  threw  open  the  door  which  gave  on  a 
passage  leading  to  a  side  entrance.  A  grena- 
dier of  the  palace  guard  jumped  to  attention 
and  presented  arms. 

"Pardon,"  he  said. 

He  completely  locked  the  hall;  the  prince 
56 


THE   TEN-FOOT-  CHAIN 


had  left  nothing  to  chance.  She  started  to 
turn  back  and  then  hesitated  and  regarded  the 
man  carefully. 

"Fritz !"  she  said  at  last,  for  she  recognized 
the  peasant  who  had  been  a  stable-boy  on  her 
father's  estate  before  he  took  service  in  the 
grenadiers.  "You  are  Fritz  Barr!" 

He  flushed  with  pleasure. 

"Madame  remembers  me?" 

"And  my  little  black  pony  you  used  to  take 
care  of?" 

"Yes,  yes!" 

He  grinned  and  nodded ;  and  then  she  noted 
a  revolver  in  the  holster  at  his  side. 

"What  are  your  orders,  Fritz?" 

"To  let  no  one  pass  down  this  hall.  I  am 
sorry,  madame." 

"But  if  I  were  to  ask  you  for  your  re- 
volver?" 

He  stirred  uneasily  and  she  took  money 
from  her  purse  and  gave  it  to  him. 

"With  this  you  could  procure  another 
weapon?" 

He  drew  a  long  breath ;  the  temptation  was 
great. 

"I  could,  madame" 

57 


THE   TEN-FOOT   CHAIN 


"Then  do  so.  It  will  never  be  known  from 
whom  I  received  the  gun — and  my  need  is  des- 
perate— desperate !" 

He  unbuckled  the  weapon  without  a  word, 
and  with  it  in  her  hand  she  returned  to  the 
room. 

There  was  a  tall  western  window,  and  be- 
fore this  she  drew  up  a  chair  to  watch  the  set- 
ting of  the  sun. 

"Will  he  ring  the  bell  when  the  edge  of 
the  sun  touches  the  hills  or  when  it  is  com- 
pletely set?"  she  thought. 

The  white  circle  grew  yellow;  then  it  took 
on  a  taint  of  orange,  bulging  oddly  at  the 
sides  into  a  clumsy  oval.  From  the  gardens 
below  came  a  stir  of  voices  and  then  the  thrill 
of  a  girl's  laughter.  She  smiled  as  she  lis- 
tened, and,  leaning  from  the  window,  the  west 
wind  blew  to  her  the  scent  of  flowers.  She  sat 
there  for  a  long  time,  breathing  deeply  of  the 
fragrance  and  noting  all  the  curves  of  the 
lawn  with  a  still,  sad  pleasure.  The  green 
changed  from  bright  to  dark ;  when  she  looked 
up  the  sun  had  set. 

As  she  turned  from  the  gay  western  sky,  the 
room  was  doubly  dim  and  the  breeze  of  the 
58 


THE   TEN-FOOT   CHAIN 

evening  set  the  curtains  rustling  and  whisper- 
ing. Silence  she  was  prepared  for,  but  not 
those  ghostly  voices,  not  the  shift  and  sweep 
of  the  shadows.  She  turned  the  electric  switch, 
closing  her  eyes  to  blur  the  shock  of  the  sud- 
den deluge  of  light.  The  switch  clicked,  but 
when  she  opened  her  eyes  the  room  was  still 
dark;  they  had  cut  the  connecting  wires. 

Thereafter  her  mind  went  mercifully  blank, 
for  what  she  faced  was,  like  birth  and  death, 
beyond  comprehension.  Noise  at  the  windows 
roused  her  from  the  daze  at  last  and  she  found 
that  a  number  of  workmen  were  sealing  the 
room  so  that  neither  light  nor  sound  could  en- 
ter or  escape.  The  only  air  would  be  from 
the  ventilator.  And  still  she  could  not  realize 
what  had  happened,  what  was  to  happen,  until 
the  last  sounds  of  the  workmen  ceased  and  the 
deep,  dread  silence  began;  silence  that  had  a 
pulse  in  it — the  beating  of  her  heart. 

She  was  standing  in  the  middle  of  the  room 
when  the  first  shapes  formed  in  the  black  night, 
and  terror  hovered  about  her  suddenly,  touch- 
ing her  as  with  cold  fingers.  She  felt  her  way 
back  to  a  corner  and  crouched  there  against  the 
wall,  waiting,  waiting.  They  had  seized  the 

59 


THE   TEN-FOOT   CHAIN 


doomed  man  long  before  this.  They  must 
have  bound  and  gagged  him  and  carried  him 
to  the  palace. 

A  thousand  types  of  men  passed  before  her 
inward  eye — thin-faced  clerks,  men  as  pale  as 
the  belly  of  a  dead  fish;  bearded  monsters, 
gross  and  thick-lipped,  with  thunderous  laugh- 
ter; laborers,  stamped  with  patient  weariness 
— and  all  whom  she  saw  carried  the  sign  of 
the  beast  in  their  eyes.  She  tried  to  pray,  but 
the  voice  of  the  prince  rang  in  her  ears :  "Le 
Dieu,  c'est  moi!"  and  when  she  named  God  in 
her  prayers,  she  visualized  Alexander's  face, 
the  pale,  small  eyes,  the  colorless  hair,  the 
lofty  brow,  the  mouth  whose  tight  lips  could 
not  be  disguised  by  even  the  careful  mustache. 
When  a  key  turned  in  a  door,  she  sprang  to 
her  feet  with  a  cry  of  horror. 

"It  is  I,"  said  the  prince. 

"I  am  dying;  I  cannot  stay  here;  I  will 
marry  whom  and  when  you  will." 

"Ah,  my  dear,  you  should  have  spoken  be- 
fore sunset.  I  warned  you,  and  I  never  change 
my  mind.  It  is  only  for  three  days,  remember. 
Also,  it  is  in  the  interest  of  science.  Beyond 
that,  I  have  quite  taken  a  fancy  to  playing  God 
60 


THE   TEN-FOOT   CHAIN 

for  you  for  three  days.    Do  you  understand?" 

The  even,  mocking  tones  guided  her  to  him. 
She  fell  at  his  feet  and  strained  his  thin  knees 
against  her  breast. 

"Come!  Be  reasonable,  Bertha.  This  is 
justice." 

"Sire,  I  want  no  justice.  For  God's  sake,  be 
merciful." 

She  heard  the  shaken  breath  of  his  sound- 
less laughter. 

"Is  it  so?  You  should  be  grateful  to  me. 
Trust  me,  child,  I  am  bringing  you  the  love  of 
which  you  have  dreamed.  Ha!  Ha!  Le 
Dieu,  c'est  moil" 

The  clanking  of  the  chain  which  he  carried 
stilled  her  voice.  It  hushed  even  the  thunder 
of  her  heart.  She  rose  and  waited  patiently 
while  the  manacle  was  affixed  to  her  wrist. 
The  prince  crossed  the  room  and  tapped  on  the 
door,  which  opened,  and  by  a  faint  light  from 
without  Bertha  discovered  two  men  carrying 
a  third  into  the  room.  She  strained  her  eyes, 
but  could  make  out  no  faces.  The  burden  was 
laid  on  the  floor ;  a  metallic  sound  told  her  that 
she  was  fettered  to  the  unknown. 

The  prince  said :  "You  are  a  brave  girl. 
61 


THE   TEN-FOOT   CHAIN 


All  may  yet  be  well.  Then  human  nature  is 
finer  than  I  think.  We  shall  see.  As  for  your 
lover,  your  gift  from  God,  he  is  sleeping 
soundly  now.  It  may  be  an  hour  before  the 
effects  of  the  drug  wear  away.  During  that 
time  you  can  think  of  love.  Food  will  be 
placed  three  times  a  day  within  the  door  yon- 
der. You  can  readily  find  it  by  feeling  your 
way  around  the  wall.  Farewell." 

When  the  door  closed  she  started  to  retreat 
to  her  corner,  but  the  chain  instantly  drew 
taut  with  a  rattle.  Strangely  enough,  much  of 
her  fear  left  her  now  that  she  was  face  to  face 
with  the  danger;  temptation,  the  prince  had 
called  it.  She  smiled  as  she  remembered. 
When  the  man  awoke  and  learned  their  situa- 
tion, she  had  no  doubt  as  to  how  he  would  act. 
She  had  seen  the  sign  of  the  beast  in  the  eyes 
of  many  men,  great  and  small;  she  had  seen 
it  and  understood.  The  revolver  might  save 
her  for  a  time,  but  what  if  she  slept?  She 
knew  it  would  be  almost  impossible  to  remain 
awake  during  three  days  and  nights. 

The  moment  her  eyes  closed  the  end  would 
come.  It  seemed  better  that  she  should  fire 
the  bullet  now. 

62 


THE   TEN-FOOT   CHAIN 

When  he  recovered  his  senses,  it  would  be 
difficult  to  shoot  effectively  in  the  dark,  for 
this  was  not  the  gloom  of  night — it  was  an 
absolute  void,  black,  thick,  impenetrable.  She 
could  not  make  out  her  hand  at  the  slightest 
distance  from  her  eyes.  He  might  even  at- 
tack her  from  behind  and  knock  the  revolver 
from  her  hand  before  she  could  shoot.  Sooner 
or  later  the  man  must  die.  Even  if  she  did  not 
kill  him  it  would  be  accomplished  by  the  com- 
mand of  the  prince  at  the  end  of  the  three 
days. 

Far  better  that  it  should  be  done  at 
once — that  he  should  never  awaken  from  his 
sleep.  She  reached  the  decision  calmly  and 
crept  forward  to  him.  Very  lightly  she  passed 
her  hand  over  his  clothes.  She  had  to  move 
his  arm  to  uncover  the  breast  over  his  heart; 
the  arm  was  a  limp  weight,  but  the  muscles 
were  firm,  round,  and  solid.  The  first  qualm 
troubled  her  as  she  realized  that  this  must  be 
a  young  man,  at  least  a  man  in  the  prime  of 
his  physical  strength. 

Then  it  occurred  to,  her  that  often  bullets 
fired  into  the  breast  are  deflected  from  the 
heart  by  bones;  it  would  be  far  more  certain 
63 


THE   TEN-FOOT   CHAIN 

to  lay  the  muzzle  against  the  temple  —  press 
the  trigger — the  soul  would  depart. 

The  soul !  She  paused  with  a  thrill  of  won- 
der. A  little  touch  would  loose  the  swift 
spirit.  The  soul!  For  the  first  time  she  saw 
the  tragedy  from  the  viewpoint  of  the  un- 
known man.  His  life  was  cut  in  the  middle; 
truly  a  blind  fate  had  reached  out  and  chosen 
him  from  a  whole  city.  Yet  she  was  merely 
hastening  the  inevitable.  She  reached  out  and 
found  his  forehead. 

It  was  broad  and  high.  Tracing  it  lightly 
with  the  tips  of  her  fingers  she  discovered  two 
rather  prominent  lumps  of  bony  structure  over 
the  eyes.  Some  one  had  told  her  that  this 
represented  a  strong  power  of  memory.  She 
tried  to  visualize  that  feature  alone,  and  very 
suddenly,  as  a  face  shows  when  a  man  lights 
his  cigarette  on  the  street  at  night,  she  saw 
in  memory  the  figure  of  Rembrandt's  "Por- 
trait of  a  Young  Painter."  He  sits  at  his 
drawing  board,  his  pencil  poised,  ready  for  the 
stroke  which  shall  give  vital  character  to  his 
sketch.  There  is  only  one  high  light,  falling 
on  the  lower  part  of  the  face.  Inspiration  has 
tightened  the  sensitive  mouth;  the  questing 
64 


THE   TEN-FOOT   CHAIN 

eyes  peer  out  from  the  shadow  of  the  soft  cap. 
She  broke  off  from  her  vision  to  realize  with 
a  start  that  when  she  touched  the  trigger  she 
would  be  stepping  back  through  the  centuries 
and  killing  her  dream  of  the  original  of  Rem- 
brandt's picture.  A  foolish  fancy,  truly,  but 
in  the  dark  a  dream  may  be  as  true,  as  vivid 
as  reality. 

The  unconscious  man  sighed.  She  leaned 
close  and  listened  to  his  breathing,  soft,  hur- 
ried, irregular  as  if  he  struggled  in  his  sleep, 
as  if  the  subconscious  mind  were  calling  to  the 
conscious:  "Awake!  Death  is  here!" 

At  least  there  was  plenty  of  time.  She  need 
not  fire  the  shot  until  he  moved.  She  laid  the 
revolver  on  her  lap  and  absently  allowed  her 
hands  to  wander  over  his  face,  lingering  lightly 
on  each  feature.  She  grew  more  alert  after 
a  moment.  Every  particle  of  her  energy  was 
concentrated  on  seeing  that  face — on  seeing  it 
through  her  sense  of  touch.  The  blind,  she 
knew,  grow  so  dextrous  that  the  delicate 
nerves  of  their  finger  tips  record  faces  almost 
as  accurately  as  the  eyes  of  the  normal  person. 

Ah,  for  one  moment  of  that  power!  She 
tried  her  best.  The  nose,  she  told  herself,  was 
T  c-s  65 


THE   TEN-FOOT   CHAIN 

straight  and  well  modeled.  The  eyes,  for  she 
traced  the  bony  structure  around  them,  must 
be  large;  the  cheek  bones  high,  a  sign  of 
strength;  the  chin  certainly  square  and  prom- 
inent; the  lips  full  and  the  mouth  rather  large; 
the  hair  waving  and  thick;  the  throat  large. 
One  by  one  she  traced  each  detail  and  then, 
moving  both  hands  rather  swiftly  over  the 
face,  she  strove  to  build  the  mental  picture  of 
the  whole — and  she  achieved  one,  but  still  it 
was  always  the  young  painter  whom  great 
Rembrandt  had  drawn.  The  illusion  would 
not  go  out  of  her  mind. 

An  artist's  hands,  it  is  said,  must  be  strong 
and  sinewy.  She  took  these  hands  and  felt 
the  heavy  bones  of  the  wrist  and  strove  to 
estimate  the  length  of  the  fingers.  It  seemed 
to  her  that  this  was  an  ideal  hand  for  a  painter 
— it  must  be  both  strong  and  supple. 

He  sighed  again  and  stirred;  she  caught  up 
the  weapon  with  feverish  haste  and  poised  it. 

"Ah,  it  is  well,"  said  the  sleeper  in  his 
dream. 

She  made  sure  that  he  was  indeed  uncon- 
scious and  then  leaned  low,  whispering: 
"Adieu,  my  dear." 

66 


THE   TEN-FOOT   CHAIN 

At  some  happy  vision  he  laughed  softly. 
His  breath  touched  her  face.  Surely  he  could 
never  know;  he  had  so  short  a  moment  left 
for  living;  perhaps  this  would  pass  into  his 
latest  dream  on  earth  and  make  it  happy. 

"Adieu!"  she  whispered  again,  and  her  lips 
pressed  on  his. 

She  laid  the  muzzle  of  the  revolver  against 
his  temple,  and,  summoning  all  her  will  power, 
she  pressed  the  trigger.  It  seemed  as  if  she 
were  pulling  against  it  with  her  full  strength, 
and  yet  there  was  no  report.  Then  she  real- 
ized that  all  her  might  was  going  into  an  in- 
ward struggle.  She  summoned  to  her  aid  the 
voice  of  the  prince  as  he  had  said :  "We  put 
a  mask  on  nature  and  call  it  love ;  we  name  an 
abstraction  and  call  it  God.  L£  Dieu,  c'est 
mot!"  She  placed  the  revolver  against  the 
temple  of  the  sleeper;  he  stirred  and  disturbed 
the  surety  of  her  direction.  She  adjusted  the 
weapon  again. 

Up  sprang  the  man,  shouting:  "Treason! 
Help!" 

Then  he  stood  silent  a  long  moment;  per- 
haps he  was  rehearsing  the  scene  of  his  seizure. 

"This  is  death,"  he  muttered  at  last,  "and  I 
67 


THE   TEN-FOOT   CHAIN 

am  in  hell.  I  have  always  known  what  it 
would  be  —  dark  —  utter  and  bitter  loss  of 
light." 

As  his  hand  moved,  the  chain  rattled.  He 
sprang  back  with  such  violence  that  his  lung- 
ing weight  jerked  her  to  her  feet. 

"It  is  useless  to  struggle/'  she  cried. 

"A  woman!    Where  am  I?" 

"You  are  lost." 

"But  what  has  happened?  In  God's  name, 
madame,  are  we  chained  together?" 

"We  are." 

"By  whose  power?  By  whose  right  and 
command  ?" 

"By  one  against  whom  we  cannot  appeal." 

"My  crime?" 

"None." 

"For  how  long — " 

"Three  days." 

He  heaved  a  great  sigh  of  relief. 

"It  is  merely  some  practical  joke,  I  see. 
That  infernal  Franz,  I  knew  he  was  meditating 
mischief!  Three  days — and  then  free?" 

"Yes,  for  then  you  die." 

Once  more  he  was  silent. 

Then:  "This  is  a  hideous  dream.  I  will 
68 


THE   TEN-FOOT   CHAIN 

waken  from  it  at  once — at  once.     My  dear 
lady—" 

She  heard  him  advancing. 

"Keep  the  chain  taut,  sir,  I  am  armed;  I 
will  fire  at  the  slightest  provocation." 

He  stopped  and  laughed. 

"Come,  come!  This  is  not  so  bad.  You 
have  been  smiling  in  your  sleep  at  me.  Up 
with  the  lights,  my  dear.  If  Franz  has  en- 
gaged you  for  this  business,  let  me  tell  you 
that  I'm  a  far  better  fellow  than  he  must  have 
advertised  me.  But  what  a  devil  he  is  to  rig 
up  such  an  elaborate  hoax!  By  Jove,  this 
chain — this  darkness —  it's  enough  to  turn  a 
fellow's  hair  white!  The  black  night  gets  on 
my  nerves.  Lights!  Lights!  I  yearn  to  see 
you;  I  prophesy  your  beauty  by  your  voice! 
Still  coy?  Then  we'll  try  persuasion!" 

His  breast  struck  the  muzzle  of  the  revolver. 

She  said  quietly:  "If  I  move  my  finger  a 
fraction  of  an  inch  you  die,  sir.  And  every 
word  I  have  spoken  to  you  is  the  truth." 

"Well,  well!  You  do  this  finely.  I  shall 
compliment  Franz  on  rehearsing  you  so  thor- 
oughly. Is  this  the  fair  Daphne  of  whom  he 
told  me — " 

69 


THE   TEN-FOOT   CHAIN 

And  his  hand  touched  her  shoulder. 

"By  everything  that  is  sacred,  I  will  fire 
unless  you  stand  back — back  to  the  end  of  the 
chain/' 

"Is  it  possible?  The  Middle  Ages  have  re- 
turned!" 

He  moved  back  until  the  light  chain  was 
taut. 

"My  mind  whirls.  I  try  to  laugh,  but  your 
voice  convinces  me.  Madame,  will  you  explain 
my  situation  in  words  of  one  syllable?" 

"I  have  explained  it  already.  You  are  im- 
prisoned in  a  place  from  which  you  cannot 
escape.  You  will  be  confined  here,  held  to  me 
by  this  chain,  for  three  days.  At  the  end  of 
that  time  you  die." 

"Will  you  swear  this  is  the  truth?" 

"Name  any  oath  and  I  will  repeat  it." 

"There's  no  need,"  he  said.  "No,  it  cannot 
be  a  jest.  Franz  would  never  risk  the  use  of 
a  drug,  wild  as  he  is.  Some  other  power  has 
taken  me.  What  reason  lies  behind  my  ar- 
rest?" 

"Think  of  it  as  a  blind  and  brutal  hand 
which  required  a  victim  and  reached  out  over 
the  city  to  find  one.    The  hand  fell  upon  you. 
70 


THE   TEN-FOOT   CHAIN 


There  is  no  more  to  say.    You  can  only  resign 
yourself  to  die  an  unknown  death." 

He  said   at   last:      "Not   unknown,    thank 
God.     I  have  something  which  will  live  after 


me." 


Her  heart  leaped,  for  she  was  seeing  once 
more  the  artist  from  Rembrandt's  brush. 

"Yes,  your  paintings  will  not  be  forgotten." 

"I  feel  that  they  will  not,  and  the  name 
of—" 

"Do  not  speak  of  it !" 

"Why?" 

"I  must  not  hear  your  name." 

"But  you  know  it  already.  You  spoke  of 
my  painting." 

"I  have  never  seen  your  face;  I  have  never 
heard  your  name;  you  were  brought  to  me  in 
this  room  darkened  as  you  find  it  now." 

"Yet  you  knew—" 

Her  voice  was  marvelously  low :  "I  touched 
your  face,  sir,  and  in  some  way  I  knew." 

After  a  time  he  said :  "I  believe  you.  This 
miracle  is  no  greater  than  the  others.  But  why 
do  you  not  wish  to  know  my  name?" 

"I  may  live  after  you,  and  when  I  see  your 
pictures  I  do  not  wish  to  say:  'This  is  his 
7i 


THE   TEN-FOOT   CHAIN 

work;  this  is  his  power;  this  is  his  limitation/ 
Can  you  understand?" 

"I  will  try  to." 

"I  sat  beside  you  while  you  were  uncon- 
scious, and  I  pictured  your  face  and  your  mind 
for  myself.  I  will  not  have  that  picture  re- 
duced to  reality." 

"It  is  a  delicate  fancy.  You  are  blind  ?  You 
see  by  the  touch  of  your  hands  ?" 

"I  am  not  blind,  but  I  think  I  have  seen  your 
face  through  the  touch." 

"Here !  I  have  stumbled  against  two  chairs. 
Let  us  sit  down  and  talk.  I  will  slide  this 
chair  farther  away  if  you  wish.  Do  you  fear 
me?" 

"No,  I  think  I  am  not  afraid.  I  am  only 
very  sad  for  you.  Listen:  I  have  laid  down 
the  revolver.  Is  that  rash?" 

"Madame,  my  life  has  been  clean.  Would 
I  stain  it  now?  No,  no!  Sit  here — so!  My 
hand  touches  yours — you  are  not  afraid? — 
and  a  thrill  leaps  through  me.  Is  it  the  dark 
that  changes  all  things  and  gives  eyes  to 
your  imagination,  or  are  you  really  very 
beautiful?" 

"How  shall  I  say?" 

72 


THE   TEN-FOOT   CHAIN 

"Be  very  frank,  for  I  am  a  dying  man,  am 
I  not?  And  I  should  hear  the  truth." 

"You  are  a  profound  lover  of  the  beauti- 
ful?" 

"I  am  a  painter,  madame." 

She  called  up  the  image  of  her  face  —  the 
dingy  brown  hair,  long  and  silken,  to  be  sure  ; 
the  colorless,  small  eyes;  the  common  features 
which  the  first  red-skinned  farmer's  daughter 
could  overmatch. 

"Describe  me  as  you  imagine  me.  I  will 
tell  you  when  you  are  wrong." 

"May  I  touch  you,  madame,  as  you  touched 
me?  Or  would  that  trouble  you?" 

She  hesitated,  but  it  seemed  to  her  that  the 
questing  eyes  of  Rembrandt's  portrait  looked 
upon  her  through  the  dark — eyes  reverent  and 
eager  at  once. 

She  said :  "You  may  do  as  you  will." 

His  unmanacled  hand  went  up,  found  her 
hair,  passed  slowly  over  its  folds. 

"It  is  like  silk  to  the  touch,  but  far  more 
delicate,  for  there  is  life  in  every  thread  of  it. 
It  is  abundant  and  long.  Ah,  it  must  shine 
when  the  sun  strikes  upon  it!  It  is  golden  hair, 
madame,  no  pale-yellow  like  sea-sand,  but  glo- 
73 


THE   TEN-FOOT   CHAIN 

rious  gold,  and  when  it  hangs  across  the  white- 
ness of  your  throat  and  bosom  the  hearts  of 
men  stir.    Speak!    Tell  me  I  have  named  it!" 
She  waited  till  the  sob  grew  smaller  in  her 

throat. 

"Yes,  it  is  golden  hair,"  she  said. 

"I  could  not  be  wrong." 

His  hand  passed  down  her  face,  fluttering 
lightly,  and  she  sensed  the  eagerness  of  every 
touch.  Cold  fear  took  hold  of  her  lest  those 
searching  fingers  should  discover  the  truth. 

"Your  eyes  are  blue.  Yes,  yes!  Deep-blue 
for  golden  hair.  It  cannot  be  otherwise. 
Speak." 

"God  help  me!" 

"Madame?" 

"I  have  been  too  vain  of  my  eyes,  sir.  Yes, 
they  are  blue." 

The  fingers  were  on  her  cheeks,  trembling 
on  her  lips,  touching  chin  and  throat. 

"You  are  divine.  It  was  foredoomed  that 
this  should  be !  Yes,  my  life  has  been  one  long 
succession  of  miracles,  but  the  greatest  was  re- 
served until  the  end.  I  have  followed  my  heart 
through  the  world  in  search  of  perfect  beauty 
and  now  I  am  about  to  die,  I  find  it.  Oh,  God ! 
74 


THE  TEN-FOOT   CHAIN 

For  one  moment  with  canvas,  brush,  and  the 
blessed  light  of  the  sun!  It  cannot  be!  No 
miracle  is  complete;  but  I  carry  out  into  the 
eternal  night  one  perfect  picture.  Canvas  and 
paint?  No,  no!  Your  picture  must  be  drawn 
in  the  soul  and  colored  with  love.  The  last 
miracle  and  the  greatest!  Three  days?  No, 
three  ages,  three  centuries  of  happiness,  for  are 
you  not  here?" 

Who  will  say  that  there  is  not  an  eye  with 
which  we  pierce  the  night  ?  To  each  of  these 
two  sitting  in  the  utter  dark  there  came  a 
vision.  Imagination  became  more  real  than 
reality.  He  saw  his  ideal  of  the  woman,  that 
picture  which  every  man  carries  in  his  heart  to 
think  of  in  the  times  of  silence,  to  see  in  every 
void.  And  she  saw  her  ideal  of  manly  power. 
The  dark  pressed  them  together  as  if  with  the 
force  of  physical  hands.  For  a  moment  they 
waited,  and  in  that  moment  each  knew  the 
heart  of  the  other,  for  in  that  utter  void  of 
light  and  sound,  they  saw  with  the  eyes  of  the 
soul  and  they  heard  the  music  of  the  spheres. 

Then  she  seemed  to  hear  the  voice  of  the 
prince:  "You  should  be  grateful  to  me. 
Trust  me,  child,  I  am  bringing  you  that  love 
75 


THE   TEN-FOOT   CHAIN 

of  which  you  dreamed.    Le  Dieu,  c'est  moil" 

,Yes,  it  was  the  voice  of  doom  which  had 
spoken  from  those  sardonic  lips.  The  dark 
which  annihilates  time  made  then*  love  a  cen- 
tury old. 

"In  all  the  world,"  she  whispered,  "there  is 
one  man  for  every  woman.  It  is  the  hand  of 
Heaven  which  gives  me  to  you." 

"Come  closer — so!  And  here  I  have  your 
head  beside  mine  as  God  foredoomed.  Listen ! 
I  have  power  to  look  through  the  dark  and  to 
see  your  eyes — how  blue  they  are! — and  to 
read  your  soul  beneath  them.  We  have  scarce- 
ly spoken  a  hundred  words  and  yet  I  see  it  all. 
Through  a  thousand  centuries  our  souls  have 
been  borne  a  thousand  times  and  in  every  life 
we  have  met,  and  known — " 

And  through  the  utter  dark,  the  merciful 
dark,  the  deep,  strong  music  of  his  voice  went 
on,  and  she  listened,  and  forgot  the  truth  and 
closed  her  eyes  against  herself. 

On  the  night  which  closed  the  third  day  the 
prince  approached  the  door  of  the  sealed  room. 
To  the  officer  of  the  secret  police,  who  stood  on 
guard,  he  said :    "Nothing  has  been  heard." 
76 


THE   TEN-FOOT   CHAIN 

"Early  this  afternoon  there  were  two  shots, 
I  think." 

"Nonsense.  There  are  carpenters  doing  re- 
pair work  on  the  floor  above.  You  mistook 
the  noise  of  their  hammers." 

He  waved  the  man  away,  and  as  he  fitted  the 
key  into  the  lock  he  was  laughing  softly  to  him- 
self :  "Now  for  the  revelation,  the  downward 
head,  the  shame.  Ha!  Ha!  Ha!" 

He  opened  the  door  and  flashed  on  his  electric 
lantern.  They  lay  upon  a  couch  wrapped  in 
each  other's  arms.  He  had  shot  her  through 
the  heart  and  then  turned  the  weapon  on  him- 
self ;  his  last  effort  must  have  been  to  draw  her 
closer.  About  them  was  wrapped  the  chain, 
idle  and  loose.  Surely  death  had  no  sting  for 
them  and  the  grave  no  victory,  for  the  cold 
features  were  so  illumined  that  the  prince  could 
hardly  believe  them  dead. 

He  turned  the  electric  torch  on  the  painter. 
He  was  a  man  about  fifty,  with  long,  iron- 
gray  hair,  and  a  stubble  of  three  days'  growth 
covering  his  face.  It  was  a  singularly  ugly 
countenance,  strong,  but  savagely  lined,  and 
the  forehead  corrugated  with  the  wrinkles  of 
long,  mental  labor.  But  death  had  made 
77 


THE   TEN-FOOT   CHAIN 

Bertha  beautiful.  Her  eyes  under  the  shadow 
of  her  lashes,  seemed  a  deep-sea  blue,  and  her 
loose,  brown  hair,  falling  across  the  white 
throat  and  breast,  seemed  almost  golden  under 
the  light  of  the  torch.  A  draft  from  the  open 
door  moved  the  hair  and  the  heart  of  the 
prince  stirred  in  him. 

He  strove  to  loosen  the  arms  of  the  painter, 
but  the  were  frozen  stiff  by  death. 

"She  was  a  fool,  and  the  loss  is  small," 
sighed  the  prince.  "After  all,  perhaps  God 
was  nearer  than  I  thought.  I  bound  them  to- 
gether with  a  chain.  He  saw  my  act  and  must 
have  approved,  for  see!  He  has  locked  them 
together  forever.  Well,  after  all  —  le  Dieu, 
c'est  moil" 


THIRD  TALE 

PLUMB  NAUSEATED 

BY  E.  K.  MEANS 


THE   TEN-FOOT   CHAIN 
THIRD  TALE 

PLUMB  NAUSEATED 

BY  E.  K.  MEANS 

I. 

"T^TES,  suh,  I  feels  plum'  qualified  to  take 

X  on  a  wife." 

The  black  negro  blushed  to  a  darker 
hue  and  his  face  shone  like  polished  ebony  in 
the  blazing  August  sun.  In  his  embarrassment 
he  twisted  his  shapeless  wool  hat  into  a  wad, 
thrust  it  under  his  arm  like  a  bundle,  turned 
his  back  upon  the  white  man's  quizzical  eyes, 
and  sat  down  upon  the  lowest  step  of  the  porch. 

At  the  feet  of  the  white  man  lay  half  a 
dozen  pairs  of  handcuffs.  He  stooped  and 
picked  up  a  pair  which  showed  rusty  in  the 
bright  light,  rubbed  the  rust  off  with  sand-pa- 
per, squirted  some  oil  into  the  mechanism  from 
a  little  can,  and  busied  himself  for  a  few  min- 
utes seeing  that  his  police  hardware  was  in 
good  condition. 

The  sheriff  remained  silent  for  so  long  that 
the  negro  imagined  he  had  been  forgotten. 

T  c— 6  81 


THE   TEN-FOOT   CHAIN 

Then  Flournoy  fired  a  question  so  unexpected- 
ly that  the  black  man  winced:  "What's  your 
name  ?" 

"Dey  calls  me  Plaster  Sickety." 

"Gosh!"  the  sheriff  exploded.  "Can  any 
woman  be  induced  to  exchange  a  perfectly  de- 
cent name  for  a  smear  like  that?" 

"Suttinly,"  the  negro  grinned.  "Dat  gal's 
name  ain't  so  awful  cute.  Dey  calls  her  Pear- 
line  Plunder." 

"Plaster  Sickety  and  Pearline  Plunder  — 
help,  everybody!  What  sort  of  children  will 
issue  from  a  matrimonial  alliance  of  such 
names  ?" 

"I  reckin  our  chillun  will  all  be  borned 
Huns,  Marse  John ;  but  I  cain't  he'p  it." 

Under  his  manipulation  the  sheriff's  worn 
handcuffs  took  on  a  polish  like  new.  At  inter- 
vals he  glanced  up  from  his  task  to  see  the 
sunlight  spraying  from  the  pecan-trees  like 
water  and  the  heat  rising  from  the  ground, 
visible  as  a  boiling  cloud.  Once  he  heard  an 
eagle  scream,  and  glanced  toward  the  Little 
Mocassin  swamp  to  behold  a  black  speck  sail  in' 
to  the  haze  that  hung  like  a  curtain  of  purple  and 
gold  upon  the  horizon.  The  negro  sat  motion- 
82 


THE   TEN-FOOT   CHAIN 

less  except  for  glowing  black  eyes  restless  as 
mercury  and  all-perceiving. 

Suddenly  the  bear-trap  mouth  of  the  big 
sheriff  twisted  into  a -little  smile. 

"How'd  you  like  to  give  your  girl  one  of 
these  things  for  a  wedding-present,  Plaster?" 
he  asked,  as  he  tossed  a  polished  pair  of  hand- 
cuffs on  the  step  beside  the  negro. 

"I's  kinder  pestered  in  my  mind  'bout  git- 
tin'  a  fitten  weddin'-present,  Marse  John, 
but — "  Plaster  rose  to  his  feet  and  returned 
the  manacles  without  completing  his  sentence. 

"How  much  money  have  you  got?"  Flour- 
noy  asked. 

"I  ain't  got  none  till  yit." 

"How  you  going  to  buy  the  license?  How 
you  going  to  pay  the  preacher?"  Flournoy 
asked. 

"Dat's  whut  I  come  to  git  a  view  from  you 
about,  Marse  John.  All  de  cullud  folks  gives 
you  a  rep  dat  you  is  powerful  good  to  niggers 
an'  I  figgered  dat  you  an'  me  mought  fix  up 
some  kind  of  shake-down  so  I  could  git  mar- 
ried 'thout  costin'  me  nothin'." 

"Don't  you  ever  read  the  Bible?"  Flournoy 
growled.  "Even  Adam's  wife  cost  him  a  bone." 
83 


THE   TEN-FOOT   CHAIN 

"Yes,  suh,"  the  negro  grinned.  "But  I  fig- 
ger  ef  Sheriff  Flournoy  had  been  aroun'  any- 
wheres at  dat  time,  maybe  Adam  would  'a'  got 
off  a  whole  lot  cheaper." 

"Have  you  got  a  job  to  support  your  wife?" 
Flournoy  asked. 

"Naw,  suh." 

"Have  you  got  a  house  to  live  in?" 

"Naw,  suh." 

"Where  are  you  going  to  live  with  her — in 
a  hollow  sycamore-tree?" 

"Yes,  suh,  I  reckin  so — dat  is,  excusin'  ef 
you  don't  he'p  us  none." 

"Where  are  you  two  idiots  going  to  derive 
your  sustenance — from  the  circumambient  at- 
mosphere ?" 

"Dat's  de  word,  Marse  John — dat  is,  ex- 
cusin' ef  you  don't  loant  us  a  hand  in  our 
troubles,"  the  negro  murmured,  wondering 
what  the  sheriff's  big  talk  meant. 

"Do  you  love  this  black  girl  very  much?" 
the  sheriff  asked  with  that  odd  turn  of  tone 
with  which  every  man  speaks  of  love  when  he 
is  in  love  with  love. 

"Boss,"  the  black  man  answered  in  a  voice 
which  throbbed,  "I  been  lovin*  dat  gal  ever 
84 


THE   TEN-FOOT   CHAIN 

since  she  warn't  no  bigger  dan — dan — dan  a 
June-bug  whut  had  visited  accidental  a  wood- 
pecker prayer-meetin'." 

"Is  she  good  to  look  at,  Plaster?"  Flournoy 
smiled. 

"Well,  suh,  I  cain't  lie  to  no  white  man, 
Marse  John;  an'  I  tells  you  honest — she  looks 
a  whole  heap  better  at  night  in  de  dark  of  de 
moon." 

"If  she  ain't  a  good-looker,  why  do  you  love 
her?"  Flournoy  asked  without  a  smile. 

"She's  good  sense  an'  jedgment,  Marse 
John,"  the  black  man  answered  earnestly. 
"An'— an'— I  jes'  nachelly  loves  her." 

Flourney  studied  a  moment,  twisting  a  pair 
of  steel  handcuffs  in  his  giant  hands.  Finally 
he  spoke : 

"Plaster,  I  have  a  cabin  down  on  the  Coolie 
Bayou  which  I  have  given  to  three  young  mar- 
ried couples  in  succession  on  the  condition  that 
they  live  there  in  peace  and  amity  one  year." 

"Yes,  suh." 

"Every  couple  broke  up  and  got  a  divorce 
within  nine  months." 

"Too  bad,  Marse  John,  dat's  mighty  po' 
luck." 

85 


THE   TEN-FOOT   CHAIN 

"You  niggers  think  you  love  each  other  until 
you  get  hitched  and  then  you  don't  stay 
hitched." 

"Some  shorely  don't — dey  don't  fer  a  fack." 

"Now  I  make  you  and  Pearline  Plunder  this 
offer.  I  will  buy  your  marriage  license,  pay 
Vinegar  Atts  to  marry  you,  bear  all  the  ex- 
pense of  a  church  wedding,  give  you  a  job  so 
you  can  support  your  wife,  and  I  will  make 
you  a  present  of  that  cabin  down  on  the  Coolie 
Bayou  if  you  and  your  wife  will  live  together 
for  three  days  without  busting  up  in  a  row." 

"Three  days,  Marse  John!"  the  negro 
howled.  "Boss,  I  motions  to  make  it  thurty 
years !" 

"No !"  Flourney  snapped.    "Three  days !" 

"I's  willin',  Marse  John,"  the  negro  laughed, 
cutting  a  caper  on  the  grass. 

"All  right!"  the  sheriff  said  as  he  stooped 
and  picked  up  a  pair  of  handcuffs.  "Now 
listen :  I  intend  to  cut  the  little  chain  on  these 
two  manacles  and  attach  each  cuff  to  a  ten- 
foot  chain.  When  you  and  Pearline  are  mar- 
ried, I  am  going  to  put  one  of  these  manacles 
around  her  wrist  and  one  around  your  wrist" 
— the  negro  showed  the  whites  of  his  eyes — 
86 


THE   TEN-FOOT   CHAIN 

"and  bind  you  two  honey-loves  together  with 
a  ten-foot  chain."  The  negro  looked  behind 
him  toward  the  gate  and  the  public  highway, 
took  a  tighter  grip  upon  his  hat,  and  made  a 
furtive  step  backward.  "You  are  to  remain 
bound  together  for  three  days."  The  negro 
smiled  and  stepped  forward.  "At  the  end  of 
that  time  you  are  to  come  here  and  report,  and 
if  you  agree  to  spend  the  remainder  of  your 
life  together,  the  cabin  is  yours !" 

"Make  it  a  two-feets  chain,  Marse  John,  so 
us  kin  git  clost  to  each  yuther,"  Plaster  pleaded. 

"What  I  have  spoken  I  have  spoken,"  Flour- 
noy  proclaimed  autocratically.  "Now,  go  tell 
your  sweetheart  all  about  it." 

II. 

THE  Big  Four  of  Tickfall  sat  around  a 
much  bewhittled  pine  table  in  the  Hen-Scratch 
saloon.  The  room  was  hazy  with  their  tobac- 
co smoke.  Conversation  languished.  The  ses- 
sion was  about  to  adjourn  until  to-morrow  at 
the  same  hour.  Figger  Bush  laid  his  cigarette 
upon  the  edge  of  the  table,  lifted  his  head  like 
a  dog  baying  the  moon,  and  chanted : 
87 


THE   TEN-FOOT   CHAIN 

"O  you  muss  be  a  lover  of  de  land- 
lady's daughter 

Or  you  cain't  git  a  secont  piece  of 
pie!" 

Before  the  other  could  catch  the  tune,  the 
green-baize  doors  of  the  saloon  were  thrown 
open  and  a  white  man  entered.  Every  negro 
looked  up  into  that  granite  face  with  its  deep-set 
eyes,  iron  jaw,  and  rugged  lines  of  strength 
and  purpose,  and  smiled  a  joyful  welcome: 

"Mawnin',  Marse  John.  'Tain't  no  use  to 
come  sheriffin'  down  dis  way.  No  niggers  ain't 
done  nothin'." 

"I  am  hunting  for  a  Methodist  clergyman 
of  color,"  Flournoy  grinned. 

"Boss,"  Vinegar  Atts  chuckled  as  he  rose  to 
his  feet,  "I's  de  blackest  an'  best  nigger 
preacher  whut  is,  an'  I  b'lieves  in  de  Mefdis 
doctrine  of  fallin'  from  grace  an'  grease.  Ef 
you  misdoubts  my  words,  ax  my  wife.  Dat 
ole  woman  admits  dat  fack  herse'f." 

'"I  want  you  to  perform  a  wedding  cere- 
mony at  the  Shoofly  Church  to-night  at  seven 
o'clock,"  the  sheriff  announced. 

Instantly  the  Rev.  Vinegar  Atts  thrust  both 
hands  into-  the  pockets  of  his  trousers  and 


THE   TEN-FOOT   CHAIN 

brought  his  hands  out,  turning  out  the  pockets 
and  showing  them  empty. 

"Dar  now,  Figger  Bush!"  Vinegar  bel- 
lowed. "I  tole  you  dat  de  good  Lawd  would 
pervide  a  way  fer  me  to  pay  fer  dem  near- 
booze  grape-juices  I  been  guzzlin'  in  yo'  sinful 
saloom!  Five  dollars  will  settle  wid  you  an' 
leave  a  few  change  over  fer  seegaws." 

"Who's  cormittin'  mattermony,  Marse 
John?"  Mustard  Prophet  wanted  to  know.  "Is 
it  one  of  dese  here  shotgun  weddin's?" 

"Plaster  Sickety  wishes  to  wed  Pearline 
Plunder." 

"I  knows  'em,"  Hitch  Diamond  rumbled 
from  his  big  chest.  "De  good  Lawd  will  shore 
got  to  pervide  fer  dem  coons  like  He  do  fer 
Vinegar  Atts — nary  one  is  got  git-up  enough 
to  make  a  livin'." 

"Those  young  colored  honey-birds  are  un- 
der my  special  care  and  protection,"  Flournoy 
announced,  smiling.  "I  intend  to  house  them 
and  take  care  of  them  and  get  them  work. 
They  are  an  experiment." 

"De  trouble  wid  experiments  is  dis,  Marse 
John,"  Mustard  chuckled,  "sometimes  dey  bust 
in  yo'  face." 

89 


THE   TEN-FOOT   CHAIN 

"My  plan  is  this,"  Flournoy  told  them.  "I 
am  going  to  tie  those  two  negroes  together 
with  a  ten-foot  chain  and  they  are  to  live  in 
peace  and  amity  for  three  days." 

"Lawdymussy,  Marse  John!"  the  Rev.  Vin- 
egar Atts  bellowed.  "Did  you  ever  tie  two 
cats  to  each  yuther  an'  hang  'em  over  de  limb 
of  a  tree?" 

"Yes." 

"Does  you  recommember  how  quick  dem 
cats  got  tired  of  each  yuther's  sawsiety  an'  fell 
out  wid  theirselves  ?" 

"Certainly." 

Vinegar  jerked  a  yellow  bandana  handker- 
chief from  the  tail  of  his  coat  and  mopped  the 
top  of  his  bald  head. 

"You  mought  care  fer  dem  niggers  ef  you 
ties  em  togedder,  Marse  John.  But  you  ain't 
gwine  be  able  to  pertection  'em  —  not  from 
each  yuther,"  Vinegar  announced  as  he  slapped 
at  his  face  with  his  kerchief.  "I  wouldn't  be 
tied  to  my  nigger  wife  wid  a  telephone- wire 
long  enough  to  conversation  de  man  in  de 
moon.  Naw,  suh!  Dat  ole  gal  would  be 
yankin'  on  dat  line  a  catfish  all  de  time. 
Whoosh!" 

90 


THE   TEN-FOOT   CHAIN 


"I  agrees  wid  dem  religium  sentiments," 
Hitch  Diamond  rumbled.  "Now  you  example 
Goldie,  my  own  wife.  Dat  little  yeller  gal's 
maw  is  a  lunatic,  an'  Goldie  ain't  no  lunatic, 
but  she  ain't  got  her  right  mind.  I  wouldn't 
mind  bein'  a  Dandylion  in  de  lion's  den,  like 
de  Bible  tells  about — dat  would  gib  me  a 
chance  to  fight  fer  my  gizzard.  But  chained 
up  to  Goldie — " 

Hitch  broke  off,  shook  his  head  in  earnest 
negation,  rubbed  one  giant  hand  around  his 
iron-thewed  wrist  as  if  he  could  feel  the  holy 
bonds  of  matrimony  and  gave  utterance  to 
one  expressive  word:  "Gawd!" 

"Hoi'  on,  niggers!"  Figger  Bush  exclaimed. 
"I  don't  foller  you-alls  in  dem  sentiments. 
Now  I  been  married  to  Scootie  gwine  on  two 
year  an'  I  ain't  never  got  too  much  of  dat 
gal  yit.  I  cherishes  de  opinion  dat  Marse 
John  could  tie  our  heads  togedder  an'  I 
wouldn't  complain  none." 

"I  sides  wid  Figger  Bush,"  Mustard  Prophet 
grinned.  "I  been  livin'  off  an'  on  wid  Hopey 
fer  twenty  year,  an'  dat  gal  is  busted  stove- 
wood  over  my  head  off  an'  on  plenty  of  times, 
but  I  don't  bear  her  no  grouch.  She  kin  always 
9i 


THE   TEN-FOOT   CHAIN 

make  peace  by  givin'  me  some  hot  biskits  an* 
a  few  sirup." 

"You  four  niggers  talk  too  much,"  Flournoy 
grinned.  "I  want  you  to  get  busy  and  deco- 
rate that  Shoofly  Church  and  pull  the  biggest 
Tickfall  church  wedding  ever  seen  in  the  social 
sets  of  our  colored  circles.  I'll  pay  for  every- 
thing." 

"Us  fo'  niggers  will  git  our  wifes  an'  pull 
some  kind  of  nice  stunt  ourselfs,  too,  Marse 
John,"  Vinegar  howled.  "We'll  fix  up  a  good 
send-off  fer  'em." 

At  seven  o'clock  that  evening  the  Flournoy 
automobile  conveyed  the  happy  pair  to  the 
Shoofly  Church.  The  Rev.  Vinegar  Atts  pro- 
ceeded with  the  ceremony  until  the  bride 
sported  a  new  ring  and  the  two  were  pro- 
nounced man  and  wife  with  the  solemn  ad- 
monition : 

"Whom  God  hath  joined  together,  let  not 
man  put  asunder !" 

Thereupon  Sheriff  Flournoy  stepped  for- 
ward and  with  the  ease  of  long  practice  slipped 
a  manacle  upon  the  right  wrist  of  the  bride 
and  another  upon  the  left  wrist  of  the  groom 
and  snapped  the  handcuffs  shut. 
92 


THE   TEN-FOOT   CHAIN 

Figger  Bush  stooped  and  lifted  a  long  bot- 
tle from  a  bucket  of  ice.  There  was  a  loud 
pop,  the  cork  struck  against  the  ceiling,  rico- 
chetted  artound  the  walls  of  the  room  and 
caused  a  commotion  by  falling  on  Vinegar's 
bald  head.  Figger  advanced  with  a  tray  con- 
taining three  glasses  and  the  sheriff  toasted 
the  bride  and  groom. 

The  ten- foot  chain  rattled  as  the  bride 
raised  her  manacled  hand  to  drink. 

When  they  marched  out  of  the  church  the 
entire  congregation  formed  a  procession  and 
accompanied  them  to  their  cabin  on  the  Coolie 
Bayou.  They  noticed  that  Plaster  Sickety 
picked  up  the  chain  and  wrapped  a  turn  around 
his  bride's  neck  and  one  about  his  own,  thus 
shortening  the  bond  and  bringing  them  close 
together.  They  clamped  their  arms  around 
each  other's  waists,  and  plodded  solemnly 
through  the  deep  dust  of  the  crooked  highway. 

"Dat  nigger  cain't  park  his  wife  like  a  new 
automobile  an'  walk  off  an'  leave  her,"  Vine- 
gar chuckled. 

"He  ain't  actin'  anxious  to  git  away — now," 
Hitch  rumbled  pessimistically. 

"Not  yit,  but  soon,"  Vinegar  agreed. 
93 


THE   TEN-FOOT   CHAIN 

Approaching  the  cabin,  Plaster  Sickety's 
voice  broke  into  exultant  song,  and  through 
the  negro's  wonderful  gift  of  improvisation, 
he  produced  this  neat  bit : 

"Bar's  a  Pearline  pearl  of  price  un- 
told, 

An'  dat  Pearline  pearl  cain't  be  bought 
wid  gold; 

An'  dat  Pearline  pearl  am  good  to  see, 

Fer  dat  Pearline  pearl  b'longs  to  me  1" 

"Listen  to  dat  fool!"  Hitch  Diamond 
chuckled.  "He's  singin'  like  a  little  black 
angel  whut  had  swiped  de  pearliest  pearl  offen 
de  pearly  gates!" 

The  bride  and  groom  entered  their  cabin 
and  softly  closed  the  door. 

Good  night ! 

III. 

"LOOKY  here,  Pearline,  I  ain't  used  to  totin' 
dis  ole  steel  band  on  my  wrist  an'  it  hurts  my 
feelin's,"  Plaster  complained  as  he  sat  at  the 
breakfast-table  before  a  meal  which  had  been 
left  on  the  door-step  a  few  minutes  before  by 
Hitch  Diamond. 

"Don't  begin  to  howl  an'  pull  back  like  a 
dawg  tied  under  a  wagin,  Plaster,"  Pearline 
94 


THE   TEN-FOOT   CHAIN 

urged  prettily,  as  she  helped  herself  to  liberal 
portions  of  the  breakfast  prepared  in  Sheriff 
Flournoy's  kitchen.  "You  won't  kick  about 
wearin'  it  as  long  as  you  loves  me,  will  you?" 

"No'm,"  Plaster  said,  as  he  lifted  the  chain 
to  a  more  comfortable  place  upon  the  dining- 
table.  "But  I  shore  wish  dat  white  man  hadn't 
choosed  such  a  heavy  chain." 

"Dis  chain  ain't  heavy,  Plaster,"  Pearline 
protested.  "You  hadn't  oughter  talk  dat  way. 
Excusin'  dat,  I  likes  dis  chain — it  ties  us  to 
each  yuther.  Don't  you  like  it?" 

"Yes'm,  I  shore  does." 

"How  come  you  complains  about  it  fer?" 

"I  ain't  got  no  lament,  Pearline — dat  is,  I 
ain't  mean  it  dat  way." 

The  bridegroom  filled  his  mouth  with  food 
and  for  the  next  ten  minutes  ate  voraciously. 
One  watching  him  would  draw  the  inference 
that  he  was  not  eating  to  enjoy  the  food  so 
much  as  to  find  some  occupation  for  his  mouth 
beside  speech. 

Pearline  reached  out  with  her  free  hand  and 
toyed  with  the  chain,  twisting  it  about  her 
fingers  lovingly,  a  dreamy  light  in  her  coal- 
black  eyes. 

95 


THE   TEN-FOOT   CHAIN 

"Us  had  de  biggest  weddin'  in  cullud  circles, 
Plaster,"  she  murmured. 

"I  ain't  no  cullud  circle,"  Plaster  mumbled, 
his  mouth  full  of  food.  "But  I  reckin  I  got  to 
run  circles  aroun'  you  'slong  as  dis  ole  chain 
stays  on.  Don't  rattle  dat  chain  so  loud, 
Pearly !  Gosh !  It  makes  a  heap  of  racket  f er 
its  little  size." 

"You  jes'  now  said  it  wus  a  big,  heavy 
chain  fer  its  size,"  his  wife  reminded  him  in  a 
sweetly  argumentative  tone. 

"Yes'm,  it  am— dis  chain  is  bofe  little  an* 
big — fer  its  size,"  the  groom  amended  hastily. 
"Stop  talkin'  about  dis  chain!" 

"You  started  dis  talk,"  she  reminded  him  re- 
proachfully. "You  said  it  hurted  yo'  wrist." 

There  was  a  loud  knock  upon  the  door. 
Plaster  sprang  up  to  answer.  The  chain  jerked 
at  his  wrist. 

"Good  gawsh!"  he  snorted.  "Come  to  de 
door  wid  me,  honey,  so  I  kin  open  up." 

"I  cain't,  Plaster,"  the  bride  exclaimed  in  a 
panic.  "I  ain't  dressed  fer  company  dis  soon  in 
de  mawnin." 

"You's  got  on  all  de  clothes  you  owns,"  the 
groom  reminded  her. 

96 


THE   TEN-FOOT   CHAIN 

"Suttinly,  but  I  ain't  got  no  white  powder  on 
my  black  nose,"  she  giggled.  "Come  back  in 
de  nex'  room  an'  let  me  fresh  up  befo'  we  opens 
de  door." 

"I  stayed  in  dar  a  plum'  hour  while  you  wus 
freshin'  up  fer  yo'  viteles,"  Plaster  grumbled. 

"Don't  git  grumped  up,  Plaster,"  Pearline 
urged.  "You  ack  like  yo'  love  is  commenced  to 
wilt  aroun'  de  edges." 

Meekly  the  man  followed  her  to  the  bedroom 
and  stood  for  fifteen  minutes  while  the  bride 
primped  her  hair,  powdered  her  nose,  adjusted 
her  collar,  fiddled  with  her  belt,  put  pins  in  her 
shirt-waist,  took  them  out  and  deposited  them 
in  her  mouth,  put  them  back  into  her  waist, 
turned  around  and  looked  at  herself  in  the 
mirror,  hunted  for  a  fresh  handkerchief  and 
could  not  find  it,  located  it  at  last  in  the  bosom 
of  her  waist,  wondered  where  she  had  left  her 
chewing-gum,  found  it  on  top  of  the  box  of 
face-powder,  and  finally  said: 

"Come  on — less  hurry  up.  Dat  comp'ny  will 
git  tired  waitin'  fer  us !" 

"Dat  comp'ny  is  gone  done  it,"  Plaster  sighed. 
"I  peeped  through  de  crack  in  de  door  an'  seed 
'em.  Hitch  Diamond  knocked  fo'  times,  den 

TC-7  97 


THE   TEN-FOOT   CHAIN 

opened  de  door  an'  picked  up  dem  breakfast- 
dishes  an'  trod  out." 

"Dat's  too  bad,"  Pearline  remarked  with  no 
interest  whatever.  She  was  looking  at  herself 
in  the  mirror.  "I'd  like  to  seen  Hitchie.  He 
use  to  be  one  of  my  ole  sweethearts." 

"Come  out  an'  set  under  de  tree  wid  me  an' 
mebbe  dat  ole  sweetheart  of  yourn  will  come 
back,"  Plaster  suggested. 

"I  don't  like  to  git  out  in  de  sunshine,"  the 
girl  replied.  "Dar's  too  much  glare." 

"Too  much— which?"  Plaster  asked. 

"Glare." 

"Yes'm." 

Plaster  stood  looking  at  her  helplessly,  won- 
dering where  they  were  going  from  there. 

"Does  you  love  me,  Plaster?"  the  girl  asked, 
siding  up  to  him  and  stepping  on  the  chain. 

"Yes'm,"  Plaster  .answered  as  he  pulled  the 
chain  from  under  her  feet  and  rubbed  his  wrist. 
"Don't  step  on  dat  chain  no  mo'.  You  might 
break  it." 

"How  come  you  don't  tell  me  you  loves 
me?" 

"I  done  tole  you  'bout  fawty  times  dis  mawn- 
in',"  Plaster  reminded  her. 
98 


THE   TEN-FOOT   CHAIN 

"But  you  ain't  never  tole  me  onless  I  axed 
you." 

"Less  go  somewhar  an'  set  down  an'  I'll  tell 
you  a  millyum  times,"  Plaster  said  eagerly. 

"Bless  Gawd,  I  knows  you  loves  me  a  plum' 
plenty,  but  I  likes  to  hear  you  tell  dem  words. 
Wait  a  minute  till  I  puts — er — I  b'lieve  I 
oughter  change  de  collar  on  dis  dress.  A  clean 
one  would  make  me  look  mo'  fresher." 

Plaster  lingered  until  the  woman  was  dressed 
to  her  fancy,  resting  his  weight  first  on  one 
impatient  leg,  then  upon  the  other. 

"You  wastes  a  heap  of  time  fixin'  yo'se'f, 
Pearly,"  he  sighed  at  last.  "I  hopes  you'll  soon 
git  dressed  up  fer  de  day." 

"You  wants  yo'  wife  to  look  nice,  don't  you?" 
she  asked  reproachfully. 

"Yes'm." 

"How  kin  I  look  nice  'thout  takin'  de  time 
to  dress?" 

They  went  out  and  sat  down  under  the  pecan- 
tree  in  the  "glare."  Pearline  seemed  to  have 
forgotten  the  glare.  Plaster  lighted  a  cigarette, 
smoked  it  to  the  end,  lighted  another,  smoked 
it  to  the  end,  and  lighted  another.  Then 
Pearline  remarked : 

99 


THE   TEN-FOOT   CHAIN 


"Honey,  does  you  love  me  more  dan  you 
loves  dem  cigareets  ?" 

"I  shore  does" — with  moderate  fervor. 

"Does  you  love  me  a  millyum  times  mo'  dan 
you  loves  cigareets?" 

"Suttinly." 

"Den,  fer  gossake,  throw  dem  cigareets 
away!  Dey  smells  like  some  kind  o'  fumigate." 

"I  cain't  do  that,  Pearly.  Dese  here  smokes 
costes  money.  An*  I  couldn't  affode  to  buy 
'em  ef  I  had  to  wuck  fer  de  money.  Dey's  a 
weddin'  present." 

"Is  you  gwine  smoke  all  yo'  married  life?" 

"Yes'm." 

"But  you  ain't  gwine  smoke  no  mo'  fer  de 
nex'  three  days,  is  you  ?" 

"No'm." 

Pearline  thrust  her  hand  into  Plaster's  pocket 
and  brought  forth  his  precious  smokes.  She 
concealed  them  in  the  mysterious  recesses  ot 
her  attire  and  Plaster  sighed  deeply. 

Ten  minutes  later  the  girl  straightened  up 
with, a  fierceness  that  nearly  snapped  her  spinal 
column. 

"Fer  mussy  sake,  Plaster  Sickety !  Whut  is 
you  got  in  yo'  mouf  ?" 

100 


THE   TEN-FOOT   CHAIN 

"I's  nibblin'  a  few  crumbs  of  terbacker, 
honey,"  Plaster  said  apologetically. 

"My  gawsh!  You  aim  to  tell  me  dat  you 
chaws?" 

"Yes'm.  I  chaws  a  little  bit  now  an'  den. 
It  kinder  helps  my  brains  to  think  an'  sottles 
my  stomick." 

There  was  a  long  silence.  Plaster  stared 
straight  ahead  of  him,  his  jaws  moving  with 
the  regularity  of  a  ruminant  cow,  his  eyes  count- 
ing the  leaves  on  the  trees,  the  pickets  on  the 
broken-down  fence,  and  estimating  the  number 
of  ants  crawling  out  of  a  hill.  Then,  uncon- 
sciously, he  reached  into  his  pocket  for  another 
cigarette.  He  did  not  find  it. 

He  heard  a  suspicious  sound  beside  him  and 
looked  at  Pearline. 

"Whut  you  cryin'  about  honey  ?" 

"You  tole  me  you  loved  me  more  dan  ci- 
gareets,  an*  yit  you  cain't  set  by  me  a  minute 
'thout  chawin'  terbacker,"  she  wailed.  "You 
is  blood  kin  brudder  to  a  worm  an'  a  goat — 
nothin'  else  chaws !" 

"Lawd!"  Plaster  sighed  in  desperation.  "I 
sees  now  dat  I'm  got  to  learn  how  to  suck  eggs 
an'  hide  de  shells."  » 

101 


THE   TEN-FOOT   CHAIN 

Suddenly  a  loud  whoop  was  heard  near  at 
hand  and  out  of  the  swamp  came  Vinegar  Atts, 
Figger  Bush,  Mustard  Prophet  and  Hitch 
Diamond. 

"Hey,  niggers !"  Plaster  bawled.  "Come  up 
an'  set  down.  Lawd,  I  nefer  wus  so  glad  to 
see  nobody  in  my  whole  life." 

"Good  mawnin',  Sister  Pearline!"  Vinegar 
chuckled.  "How  is  yo'-alls  en  joy  in'  matter- 
mony  life  by  now?" 

"Fine,"  the  bride  smiled,  with  a  suspicion  of 
tears  still  in  her  eyes. 

"Praise  de  Lawd!"  exclaimed  Vinegar.  "I 
wus  skeart  you  niggers  would  be  fightin'  by 
now,  an'  mebbe  one  of  yous  would  be  draggin' 
de  yuther  on  de  end  o'  dat  chain — dead !" 

"Naw,  suh !"  Plaster  howled,  as  he  snatched 
a  cigar  out  of  Hitch  Diamond's  pocket  and 
stuck  it  in  his  mouth.  "Us  is  gittin'  along 
puffeckly." 

Plaster  snatched  his  cigar  from  his  lips  with 
his  manacled  hand  and  flourished  it  with  a 
motion  of  broad  contentment.  Pearline  gave 
the  chain  a  quick  jerk  and  the  smoke  flew  from 
Plaster's  fingers  and  fell  over  in  the  high  grass. 

"You  two  id  jits  look  like  a  holy  show  to  me," 

IO2 


THE   TEN-FOOT   CHAIN 

Figger  Bush  cackled.  "How  come  you  don't 
charge  admissions  to  de  show  an'  git  rich?" 

"Us  wouldn't  git  rich  quick,"  Pearline  gig- 
gled. Hitch  Diamond  had  retrieved  the  cigar, 
and  Pearline  had  taken  it  from  him  and  stuck 
it  in  her  hair.  "You-all  is  de  onlies'  comp'ny 
we  is  had  till  yit." 

"I  hopes  you  niggers  will  stay  wid  us  all  day, 
brudders,"  Plaster  exclaimed  earnestly.  "We 
wus  feelin'  kinder — er — me  an'  Pearline  wus 
feelin'  sorter — er — " 

"Uh-huh,"  Hitch  Diamond  grunted  know- 
ingly. "Dat's  a  fack.  We  ole  married  folks 
onderstan's  dem  feelin's.  I'd  feel  dat  way 
mese'f  ef  I  wus  in  yo'  fix.  I'd  whet  up  my 
teeth  on  a  brick-bat  an'  bite  myse'f  in  my 
own  gizzard  an'  die." 

"Not  me!"  Figger  Bush  howled.  "Ef  I 
wus  chained  to  dat  little  gal,  I'd  git  me  a  plow- 
line  an'  wrop  it  aroun'  our  necks." 

"I  would,  too,"  Vinegar  bellowed.  "But  I'd 
tie  de  yuther  eend  of  dat  plow-line  to  a  tree 
an'  jump  off  de  worl'." 

"I  bet  Pearline  don't  hanker  to  jump  offen 
no  worl',"  Mustard  Prophet  proclaimed.  "Look 
at  her — she's  jes'  as  happy  as  ef  she  had  sense." 
103 


THE   TEN-FOOT   CHAIN 

The  eyes  of  the  four  men  turned  upon  the 
girl  appraisingly.  Then  Pearline  remembered 
that  a  few  moments  before  she  had  been  snif- 
fling end  shedding  tears.  She  was  sure  her  eyes 
were  red,  and  she  knew  the  tears  had  washed 
all  the  white  powder  off  her  black  nose.  Quickly 
she  rose  to  her  feet,  giving  the  ten-foot  chain 
a  sharp  jerk. 

"I  hates  to  take  you  from  yo'  f  rien's,  Plaster,'* 
she  exclaimed,  "but  I'm  got  to  go  in.  I  cain't 
stand  de  glare." 

Side  by  side  they  entered  the  cabin  and  the 
chain  rattled  as  they  shut  the  door. 

An.l  the  evening  and  the  morning  were  the 
first  day. 

IV. 

"STOP  scatterin'  dem  shavin's  all  over  de 
floor,  Plaster,"  Pearline  commanded.  "Ef 
folks  comes  to  see  us,  I  don't  want  dis  house 
all  literated  up  wid  trash." 

"I  got  to  whittle  while  you  sews,  honey," 
Plaster  said  patiently.  "I  wanted  to  sot  out 
in  the  yard,  but  you  kep'  me  in  de  house  all 
yistiddy  afternoon  because  you  said  you  had  de 
headache  from  de  glare." 
104 


THE   TEN-FOOT   CHAIN 

"You  kin  whittle  'thout  messin'  up  dis  room," 
Pearline  snapped. 

"I  likes  a  messy  room,"  the  man  declared. 
"It  looks  like  folks  lived  in  it  an'  wus  tol'able 
comfer'ble." 

"You  cain't  mess  up  my  house  ef  I  got  to 
come  atter  you  an'  clean  up,"  the  woman  re- 
plied in  a  tone  of  finality. 

A  hound-dog  stuck  his  wistful  face  into  the 
door,  seeking  an  invitation  to  enter. 

"Bar's  a  frien'  in  need,"  the  bridegroom  pro- 
claimed happily.  "Come  here,  dawg !" 

"Git  out  o'  here !"  the  woman  shrieked,  kick- 
ing at  the  hound  and  sending  him  out  with  a 
howl.  "I  don't  want  dat  houn'  in  dis  house 
scratchin'  his  fleas  all  over  de  rooms.  Look 
at  de  mud  dat  dawg  tracked  in.  Come  wadin' 
through  de  bayou  an'  den  come  trackin'  through 
de  house!" 

"Bar's  some  advantages  in  livin'  a  dawg's 
life,  Pearline,"  Plaster  sighed.  "  Even  ex- 
cusin'  de  fleas,  dar's  plenty  advantage.  A  dawg, 
even  a  married  dawg,  he  ain't  tied  up  all  de  time 
an'  kin  run  aroun'  some." 

"You  aims  to  say  you's  gittin'  tired  stayin' 
here  wid  me?"  Pearline  snapped. 
105 


THE   TEN-FOOT   CHAIN 

"No'm.  Nothin'  like  dat.  I's  happy  as  a 
mosquiter  on  a  pickaninny's  nose." 

"Ef  you  feels  tied  up  like  a  houn'-dawg  in  de 
middle  of  de  secont  day,  how  does  you  expeck 
to  feel  in  de  middle  of  de  secont  year?" 

Plaster  thought  it  best  not  to  venture  a  reply. 
He  looked  through  the  open  door  at  the  hound, 
lying  under  the  china-berry  tree  in  the  glare, 
placidly  scratching  fleas,  bumping  the  elbow  ot 
his  hind  leg  on  the  soft  ground  as  he  scratched. 

"Don't  you  never  answer  no  'terrogations 
when  I  axes  you?"  Pearline  asked  sharply. 
"How  you  gwine  feel  in  de  middle  of  de  secont 
year?" 

Out  of  sheer  perversity  Plaster  was  disposed 
to  tell  her  that  he  would  feel  dead  and  buried  for 
at  least  a  year  before  the  time  she  mentioned,  but 
instead  he  swallowed  hard  three  times.  His 
throat  was  dry  and  his  tongue  rasped  his  mouth 
like  sandpaper.  His  answer,  finally,  was  a 
song: 

"She'll  be  sweeter  as  de  days  go  by; 
She'll  git  sweeter  as  de  moments  fly; 
She'll  git   sweeter   an'   be  dearer 
As  to  me  she  draws  mo'  nearer — 
Sweeter  as  de  days  go  by." 
106 


THE   TEN-FOOT   CHAIN 

Thereupon  Pearline  jumped  from  her  chair, 
got  strangle-hold  upon  her  husband,  sat  down 
on  him,  and  impressed  him  forcibly  in  the  next 
half -hour  that  his  wife  was  a  heavyweight  and 
the  day  was  extremely  warm. 

Plaster  made  such  a  hit  with  his  improvised 
song  that  he  repeated  it  three  times,  then 
gradually  eased  his  wife  off  his  lap  and  onto 
a  chair. 

"Don't  you  never  shave  yo'  face,  Plaster?" 
the  lady  asked  when  the  love  scene  ended.  "You 
feels  like  a  stubby  shoe-brush." 

"No'm,  my  whiskers  don't  pester  me  none." 

"But  dey  looks  so  bad,"  the  woman  urged. 

"I  cain't  see  'em,"  Plaster  grinned. 

"I  wants  you  to  shave  eve'y  day  while  you  is 
married  to  me." 

"Huh,"  Plaster  grunted. 

"An  I  wants  you  to  brush  up  yo'  clothes,  Plas- 
ter," the  woman  told  him.  "You  looks  scanda- 
lous dusty." 

"I  looks  as  good  as  you  does,"  Plaster  re- 
torted. "I's  got  powdered  dirt  on  my  clothes 
an*  you's  got  powdered  chalk  on  yo'  nose.  You 
looks  to  dang  dressy  fer  me  anyhow.  I  favors 
bein'  dusty  an'  easy-feelin'." 
107 


THE   TEN-FOOT    CHAIN 

The  discussion  ended  by  the  appearance  of 
three  women  who  came  to  the  open  door  from 
the  highroad. 

"Look  at  dat,  now!"  Plaster  exclaimed. 
"Here  comes  three  ole  gals  of  mine.  I  co'ted 
'em  all  servigerous  but  it  didn't  git  me 
nothin'." 

"Whut  dey  buttin'  in  here  fer?"  Pearline 
asked  in  sharp  tones. 

"Mebbe  dey'll  tell  us  when  dey  comes  in," 
Plaster  chuckled. 

The  three  women  were  the  wives  of  Hitch 
Diamond,  Figger  Bush,  and  Vinegar  Atts. 
When  they  entered  they  came  straight  to  the 
point. 

"Plaster,  us  ladies  wants  to  talk  to  Sister 
Pearline  Flunder  Sickety  in  privut." 

"Dat  cain't  be  did,  sisters,"  Plaster  answered, 
looking  them  over  suspiciously.  "Whut  does 
you  want  to  tell  my  wife  in  privut?" 

"Dat's  a  secret,"  Scootie  Bush  giggled. 

Plaster  looked  at  the  women  with  an  earnest 
effort  to  read  their  intentions.  He  recalled 
certain  incidents  in  his  association  with  the  three 
in  the  old  days  of  happy  courtship  that  he  pre- 
ferred his  wife  should  not  know.  He  thought 
108 


THE   TEN-FOOT    CHAIN 

he  saw  mischief  in  the  eyes  of  each  of  the 
women,  especially  Scootie  and  Goldie,  and  he 
shook  his  head. 

"Nothin'  ain't  told  in  privut,  sisters,"  he  an- 
nounced. "Leastwise,  not  till  after  de  third 
day." 

"Does  you  aim  to  say  dat  I  cain't  conver- 
sation in  privut  wid  my  frien's?"  Pearline 
snapped. 

"No'm  not  perzackly  dat,"  Plaster  hastened 
to  explain.  "But  it  looks  kinder  onpossible  to 
me  as  long  as  I'm  tied  up  wid  you  on  dis  chain." 

"Git  over  again  dat  wall  while  dese  ladies 
whispers  to  me,"  Pearline  replied,  giving  him 
a  push. 

Plaster  sat  down  and  strained  his  ears  to 
hear.  What  he  heard  was  spasmodic  giggles. 
He  saw  mischievous  glances  directed  to  him- 
self. Once  he  saw  his  wife  look  straight  at 
him  reproachfully,  as  if  she  suspected  that  he 
was  trying  to  overhear.  There  was  half  an 
hour  of  this,  then  the  three  giggling  women 
took  their  departure. 

"Whut  did  dem  nigger  women  want,  Pearl- 
ine?" Plaster  demanded. 

"Dat's  a  fambly  secret,"  Pearline  giggled. 
109 


THE   TEN-FOOT   CHAIN 

"Does  you  think  you  oughter  hab  any  secrets 
from  yo'  cote-house  husbunt?"  Plaster  de- 
manded belligerently. 

"Naw,  suh.  Not  no  secrets  dat  stays  secrets, 
but  dis  here  little  myst'ry  will  git  public  power- 
ful soon." 

Coming  through  the  medium  of  Plaster's 
troubled  conscience,  this  answer  sounded  omi- 
nous. Pearline  picked  up  some  sewing  and 
Plaster  reached  for  his  unwhittled  stick.  He 
spent  one  half -hour  in  deep  thought.  He  was 
sorry  he  had  told  Pearline  that  those  three 
women  were  old  sweethearts  of  his.  He  re- 
called that  his  courtship  of  each  woman  had 
broken  up  in  a  row  and  a  fist-fight.  It  had  been 
one-sided,  the  women  conducting  the  row  and 
doing  all  the  fighting  while  Plaster  endeavored 
to  escape.  Now  Plaster  had  no  other  idea  than 
that  they  were  hot  on  his  trail.  They  were 
planning  to  make  his  life  miserable  through 
the  jealousy  of  his  wife. 

There  was  a  loud  knock  on  the  front  door. 
The  two  arose  and  the  door  opened  to  Vinegar 
Atts,  Figger  Bush,  and  Hitch  Diamond. 

"Sister  Sickety,  us  three  niggers  is  a  cor- 
mittee  of  three  app'inted  to  wait  in  privut  on 
no 


THE   TEN-FOOT   CHAIN 

Brudder  Plaster  Sickety  an'  hoi'  a  secret  con- 
fab wid  him,"  Vinegar  announced  pompously. 

"I  don't  allow  my  husbunt  to  hab  no  secrets 
from  me,"  Pearline  answered  looking  suspi- 
ciously at  her  old  sweetheart,  Hitch  Diamond. 

"Dis  am  a  man's  pussonal  bizzness,  Pearl- 
ine," Hitch  Diamond  rumbled.  "A  nigger 
woman  is  got  to  butt  out." 

"But  I's  chained  up  wid  Plaster,"  Pearline 
protested. 

"Git  over  agin  dat  wall  while  dese  gen'lemens 
whispers  to  me,"  Plaster  remarked,  giving  her  a 
push  toward  the  chair  which  he  had  occupied 
under  similar  circumstances  a  short  time  before. 

The  three  committeemen  walked  up  close  to 
Plaster,  draped  their  arms  over  his  shoulders, 
and  talked  in  whispers,  but  guffawed  out  loud. 
Because  Pearline  was  present  their  eyes  irre- 
sistibly sought  hers,  especially  when  they 
laughed — what  man  can  keep  from  looking 
at  the  woman  in  a  room? — and  Pearline  in- 
ferred that  they  were  talking  and  laughing 
about  her.  She  strained  her  ears  to  hear,  but 
not  a  word  enlightened  her  igorance.  Then 
with  a  loud  laugh  the  three  men  patted  Plas- 
ter on  the  back  and  took  themselves  off. 
in 


THE   TEN-FOOT   CHAIN 

"Whut  did  them  niggers  want.  Plaster?" 
Pearline  demanded  in  irate  tones. 

"Dat's  a  fambly  secret,"  Plaster  quoted  mock- 
ingly. 

"I  felt  like  a  fool  wid  dem  mens  lookin'  at 
me  an*  snickerin',"  the  woman  complained. 
"Wus  dey  talkin'  about  me?" 

"Yes'm,"  the  man  chuckled. 

This  remark  set  Pearline  to  thinking  about 
certain  incidents.  Hitch  had  been  an  old  sweet- 
heart, Figger  Bush  and  Vinegar  Atts  had  paid 
her  courtly  attentions,  and  some  things  had 
happened  that  she  would  rather  not  have  to  ex- 
plain to  her  husband.  There  was  a  dismal 
depthless  gulf  of  painful  silence  between  the 
honeymooners  for  a  long  time.  Then  Pearline 
said  with  difficulty: 

"I  don't  like  de  nigger  mens  you  'socheates 
wid.  Dem  three  niggers  ain't  fitten  comp'ny 
fer  my  husbunt." 

"Dat's  whut  I  thinks  about  dem  three  womens 
dat  come  to  see  you,"  Plaster  answered.  "Ef 
you  runs  wid  dat  color  of  petticoats  I  shore 
will  disrespeck  you  mo'  dan  I  does  now." 

"I  runs  wid  anybody  I  chooses,"  Pearline 
snapped. 

112 


THE   TEN-FOOT   CHAIN 

"Me,  too,"  Plaster  retorted. 

They  pulled  apart  and  the  chain  rattled. 

They  stepped  back  from  the  entrance  and 
closed  the  door. 

And  the  evening  and  the  morning  were  the 
second  day. 

V. 

BY  sleeping  until  the  noon-hour  the  two  love- 
captives  shortened  the  .third  day  by  half. 

In  the  two  days  past  they  had  exhausted 
every  theme  of  conversation,  had  wearied  of 
every  kind  of  amusement  they  could  devise, 
and  had  pumped  their  hearts  dry  of  language 
to  proclaim  and  protest  their  affection  for  each 
other  to  lubricate  the  machinery  of  existence 
amid  the  friction  of  their  disposition  and  tem- 
perament. 

The  day  before  Plaster  had  made  a  hit  with 
a  song,  so  he  decided  to  fill  every  moment  of 
that  day  until  the  sun  sank  below  the  horizon 
with  vocal  music,  for  song  banishes  conver- 
sation and  song  is  not  provocative  of  difference 
of  opinion  and  argument — so  he  thought. 
While  he  and  his  wife  were  dressing,  Plaster 
began : 

TC-8  II 


THE   TEN-FOOT   CHAIN 

"Does  you  know  dat  I  am  dyin' 

Per  a  little  bit  of  love? 
Everywhar  dey  hears  me  sighin* 

Per  a  little  bit  of  love. 
Per  dat  love  dat  grows  mo*  strong, 

Pills  de  heart  wid  hope  and  song, 
I  has  waited — oh,  so  long — 

Per  a  little  bit  of  love." 

"Whut  makes  you  sing  so  dang  loud,  Plas- 
ter?" Pearline  asked  wearily,  as  she  rested 
her  head  upon  her  hands.  "You  sounds  like 
a  brayin'  jackace  mournin'  because  he  done 
tumbled  down  a  open  well." 

"One  time  you  said  you  liked  my  singin'," 
Plaster  retorted. 

"I  couldn't  tell  you  whut  I  really  thought 
about  it  in  dem  sad  days,"  Pearline  remarked. 

They  ate  their  noon  meal  in  silence  because 
neither  could  think  of  anything  to  say.  Plaster 
had  got  the  hook  at  the  very  beginning  of  his 
musical  career,  and  the  things  he  thought  of  to 
say  were  not  fit  for  utterance  or  publication. 

As  they  rose  from  the  table,  they  looked  with 
surprise  out  of  the  window. 

A  long  procession  of   negroes  approached 
the  cabin.    All  were  dressed  in  their  best  clothes 
and  the  Rev.  Vinegar  Atts  was  in  the  lead. 
114 


THE   TEN-FOOT   CHAIN 

The  bridal  pair  suddenly  remembered  some- 
thing, and  they  stepped  out  on  the  porch  to  re- 
ceive them  as  they  filled  the  space  in  front  of  the 
house. 

Vinegar  took  his  famous  preaching  attitude 
in  front  of  the  porch,  inflated  his  lungs  and  be- 
gan: 

"Brudder  an'  Sister  Sickety,  us  is  all  rejoiced 
dat  you  two  honey-loves  is  got  mighty  nigh 
through  wid  yo'  honey-tower  widout  no  fuss 
or  fight.  We  welcomes  you  back  to  our  saw- 
siety  wid  glad  arms.  We  hopes  dat  you  will 
love  each  yuther  mo5  or  less  an'  off  an'  on  fer- 
ever!  We  knows  dat  you  has  well  earnt  dis 
house  an'  lot  dat  Marse  John  Flournoy  has 
gib  you  an'  we  cullud  folks  wants  to  make  you 
a  present  of  a  few  change  so  you  kin  buy  some 
nice  house- furnicher  an'  start  out  fresh  an' 
new." 

Thereupon  Vinegar  laid  his  stove-pipe  hat 
upside  down  upon  the  floor  of  the  porch,  turned 
and  surveyed  the  assembly  while  he  mopped  his 
bald  head  with  a  yellow  bandana  handkerchief. 

"Walk  right  up,  brudders  an'  sisters,  an' 
drap  yo'  few  change  in  dis  stove-pipe  preachin'- 
hat!" 

us 


THE   TEN-FOOT   CHAIN 

They  came  up  one  by  one,  laughingly  de- 
positing their  money,  and  pausing  to  shake 
hands  with  the  bride  and  groom. 

When  the  ceremony  ended,  Vinegar  emptied 
his  hat  upon  the  floor  of  the  porch,  placed  it 
upon  his  head  with  a  farewell  flourish,  and  led 
the  negroes  out  of  the  yard. 

"Dis  money  is  de  fambly  secret  dem  three 
nigger  womens  whispered  to  me,  honey,"  Pearl- 
ine giggled. 

"Dat's  de  myst'ry  dem  three  committee  fel- 
lers tole  me,"  Plaster  chuckled. 

The  two  sat  down  and  counted  the  money — 
twenty-five  dollars  and  thirty  cents ! 

"Dat  thuty  cents  is  yourn  to  spend  foolish, 
Pearline,"  Plaster  said  generously  as  he  pushed 
three  dimes  toward  her  and  clutched  with  both 
hands  at  the  rest. 

"Hoi5  on  nigger !"  Pearline  snapped.  I  ain't 
no  bayou  minnow  to  git  jes'  a  little  nibble 
of  dat  money — half  of  dat  cash  spondulix 
is  mine." 

"Yes'm,  but  I  is  de  man  of  de  fambly  an' 
I  oughter  keep  it  an'  han'  it  out  to  you  as  you 
needs  it." 

"I  needs  my  half  right  now,"  Pearline 
116 


THE   TEN-FOOT   CHAIN 

snapped,  placing  both  her  hands  upon  the  clutch- 
ing paws  of  Plaster  Sickety. 

"Whut  you  gwine  do  wid  twelve  dollars  an' 
fo'  bits?"  Plaster  demanded  in  irate  tones. 

"Buy  me  a  hat!"  Pearline  told  him. 

"You's  a  fool!"  Plaster  informed  her.  "Fe- 
male hats  ain't  furnicher." 

"Dis  money  furnishes  me  wid  a  hat,"  she 
announced  positively. 

Then  they  sat  for  a  few  minutes  in  silence, 
both  keeping  their  hands  spread  out  over  the 
money. 

"Whut  you  gwine  do  wid  yo'  twelve  dollars 
an'  f o'  bits  ?"  Pearline  demanded  at  last. 

"I  riggers  on  buyin'  a  fiddle,"  Plaster  told  her. 
"Plenty  money  kin  be  made  playin'  fiddles, 
an'  I  b'lieves  I  could  learn  to  fiddle  ef  I  had  a 
good  chance." 

"I  ain't  gwine  hab  no  fiddlin'  nigger  in  my 
house,"  Pearline  snorted.  "I's  druther  be 
married  to  a  phoney  graft." 

"You  ain't  gwine  be  married  to  nothin'  very 
long  ef  you  don't  leggo  dis  money,  nigger!" 
Plaster  snarled. 

"I  is." 

"You  ain't." 

117 


THE   TEN-FOOT   CHAIN 

"Don't  gimme  no  sass." 

"You  sassed  me  fust." 

The  woman  raised  one  hand  from  the  money 
and  made  an  unexpected  sideswipe  at  Plaster's 
jaw  with  her  open  palm.  The  blow  landed  with 
a  smack  that  jarred  the  very  marrow  of  his 
bones  and  keeled  him  over  the  edge  of  the  porch 
to  the  ground.  As  he  fell  sprawling,  the  chain 
tightened  and  jerked  Pearline  off  her  perch  and 
she  fell  to  the  ground  with  a  squall.  Then  for 
ten  minutes  there  was  a  Kilkenny  cat  scrap  on 
the  front  lawn. 

Pearline  bit  and  scratched  and  pulled  hair 
and  tore  clothes.  She  had  decidedly  the  best 
of  the  rookus  until  her  unusual  activities  caused 
her  to  get  a  twist  of  the  chain  around  her  neck. 
Plaster  thanked  the  Lord  and  choked  her  into 
inaction  and  submission  by  the  simple  process 
of  pretending  to  escape  from  her  and  thus 
tightening  the  chain. 

When  she  was  choked  almost  to  suffocation, 
he  edged  her  to  the  porch,  lifted  the  twenty- 
five  dollars  and  thirty  cents  into  his  own  pockets, 
and  released  the  chain. 

When  Pearline  recovered  her  breath  she 
dropped  flat  upon  the  ground  at  her  feet  and 
118 


"THE  BLOW  LANDED  WITH  A  SMACK  THAT  JARRED  THE 
VERY  MARROW  OF  HIS  BONES  AND  KEELED  HIM  OVER 

THE  EDGE  OF  THE  PORCH  TO  THE  GROUND." 


THE   TEN-FOOT   CHAIN 

howled  like  a  Comanche  until  the  going  down 
of  the  sun. 

Plaster  did  not  attempt  to  console  or  quiet 
her.  When  he  spoke  again,  he  reached  out  and 
touched  the  bawling  woman  with  his  foot. 

"Git  up  id  jit!"  he  exclaimed.  "Marse  John 
expecks  us  to  come  an'  repote  to  him  an'  git 
dese  here  handcuffs  tuck  off." 

Sheriff  John  Flournoy  was  waiting  for  them 
as  they  came  across  his  lawn  to  the  porch  where 
he  sat. 

Then  for  half  an  hour  he  listened  to  a  tirade 
of  crimination  and  recrimination  which  crackled 
with  profane  expletives  like  thorns  under  a  pot. 
When  Plaster  paused  to  breathe,  Pearline  took 
up  the  complaint.  When  Pearline  stopped  from 
exhaustion,  Plaster  resumed  his  lamentations. 

When  the  storm  of  vituperation  subsided, 
Flournoy  sat  in  his  chair  like  a  man  who  had 
been  pounded  over  the  head  with  a  brick.  It 
was  some  time  before  he  could  formulate  his 
ideas.  Then  he  spoke  with  difficulty. 

"I  judge  from  what  I  have  heard  that  your 
three  days'  experience  together  has  convinced 
you  that  your  tastes  are  entirely  dissimilar  and 
your  natures  incompatible." 
121 


THE   TEN-FOOT   CHAIN 

"Yes,  suh,  dat's  c'reck." 

"The  information  you  offer  conveys  to  me 
the  impression  that  a  woman  loves  shadows, 
but  a  man  loves  sunshine  and  glare;  a  woman 
loves  dress,  but  a  man  loves  tobacco;  a  woman 
desires  daintiness  and  neatness  attended  with 
any  degree  of  discomfort,  but  a  man  prefers 
comfort  with  no  matter  how  much  litter  and 
mess ;  a  woman  loves  indoor  sports,  like  sewing, 
and  a  man  loves  outdoor  sports,  like  whittling 
sticks  and  making  the  acquaintance  of  a  hound- 
dog  with  fleas  on  his  body  and  mud  on  his  feet ; 
a  man  loves  to  sing  and  hear  himself  sing,  and 
the  woman  prefers  to  hear  some  other  man 
sing;  a  woman  wants  her  female  companions 
with  their  confidences  and  their  secrets,  and  a 
man  desires  his  male  companions  and  their 
secrets,  but  neither  party  to  the  matrimonial  al- 
liance is  willing  that  the  partner  should  keep  a 
secret.  Am  I  right  as  far  as  I've  gone  ?" 

"Dat's  right !"  they  said  in  positive  tones. 

"But  de  fuss  part,  Marse  John,  is  de  money !" 
the  woman  shrieked. 

"Certainly,"  Flournoy  agreed  softly.  "Matri- 
mony is  always  a  matter  of  money." 

Then  Flournoy  took  a  key  from  his  pocket 

122 


THE   TEN-FOOT   CHAIN 

and  opened  the  bracelets  on  their  wrists.  The 
chain  fell  at  their  feet.  The  bride  and  bride- 
groom looked  away,  each  ignoring  the  presence 
of  the  other. 

Plaster  Sickety  thrust  both  hands  into  his 
pockets,  brought  out  twenty-five  dollars  and 
thirty  cents  and  laid  it  into  the  open  palm  of 
the  sheriff. 

"Per  Gawd's  sake,  git  me  a  deevo'ce!"  he 
pleaded. 

"Make  it  two,  Marse  John,"  the  girl  urged. 
'Ts  plum'  nauseated  wid  dat  nigger  man." 

The  bride  and  bridegroom  turned  and  walked 
away,  choosing  different  paths  and  going  in 
opposite  directions.  They  did  not  look  back. 

The  sheriff  stooped  and  picked  up  the  rattling 
chain. 

Then  he  went  into  the  house  and  slammed  the 
door. 

The  evening  and  the  morning  were  the  third 
day,  and — > 


123 


FOURTH  TALE 

PRINCESS  OR  PERCHERON 

BY  PERLEY  POORE  SHEEHAN 


THE   TEN-FOOT   CHAIN 
FOURTH  TALE 

PRINCESS  OR   PERCHERON 

BY  PERLEY  POORE  SHEEHAN 

I. 

SOME  queer  things  had  taken  place  in  this 
same  hall — some  very  queer  things;  but 
there  were  indications  that  this  present  af- 
fair was  going  to  be  queerer  yet. 

The  old  duke  always  had  been  a  worthy  de- 
scendant of  his  ancestors;  like  them,  a  little 
mad,  with  flashes  of  genius,  very  fine,  very 
brutal,  a  murderer  at  heart,  with  a  love  for 
poetry  and  philosophic  speculation. 

The  guests  were  already  in  a  smiling  tremor 
of  curiosity  when  they  arrived.  Some  of  them 
whispered  among  themselves : 

"It's  on  account  of  the  Princess  Gabrielle." 

"They  say  the  duke  is  furious." 

"Not  astonishing.  But — a  marriage !  How 
can  there  be  a  marriage  ?" 

Yet  it  looked  as  if  a  marriage  there  would 
be.  Manifestly,  the  hall  had  been  prepared  for 
some  such  event. 

127 


THE   TEN-FOOT   CHAIN 

It  was  a  chamber  long,  lofty  and  broad,  walled 
and  floored  with  the  native  Burgundy  rock, 
richly  carpeted,  hung  with  tapestry.  And  down 
a  portion  of  the  length  of  this  ran  a  wide  table 
already  spread  with  the  viands  of  a  wedding- 
feast — huge  cold  pasties,  hams  and  boarheads 
beautifully  jellied,  fresh  and  candied  fruits  from 
Spain  and  Sicily,  flagons  and  goblets  of  crystal, 
silver,  and  gold. 

What  aroused  curiosity  and  conjecture  to  the 
highest  point,  however,  was  the  discovery  that 
the  immense  fireplace  of  the  hall  had  been  trans- 
formed into  a  forge.  It  was  a  forge  complete — 
bellows  and  hearth,  anvil  and  tub,  hammers 
and  tongs.  There  was  even  a  smutty- faced  imp 
there  to  tend  the  forge  fire,  which  already  hissed 
and  glowed  as  he  worked  the  bellows. 

"Aha !  So  there  was  a  smith  mixed  up  in  the 
affair,  after  all !" 

"Mais  ow!  Gaspard,  the  smith,  whose  forge 
is  down  there  on  the  banks  of  the  Rhone." 

"But  what  does  the  duke  intend  to  do?" 

It  was  a  question  which  more  than  one  was 

asking.    There  was  never  any  forecasting  what 

a  whim  of  the  duke  might  lead  him  to  do  even 

in    ordinary    circumstances — declare    war    on 

128 


THE   TEN-FOOT   CHAIN 

France,  call  a  new  Crusade.  And  now,  with 
this  menace  of  scandal  in  his  family ! 

There  in  front  of  the  fireplace  where  the 
forge  had  been  set  up,  the  valets  had  placed 
the  ducal  chair.  All  the  same,  the  arrange- 
ments had  something  sinister  about  them.  There 
fell  a  period  of  silence  touched  with  panic.  But 
not  for  long.  Curiosity  was  too  acute  and 
powerful  to  be  long  suppressed.  The  whisper- 
ing resumed : 

"The  duke  surprised  them  together — the 
princess  and  her  smith."  i 

"It  looks  like  the  torture  for  one  or  both." 

"They  say  the  fellow's  an  Apollo,  a  Her- 
cules." 

"You  wait  until  the  duke—" 

"Silence!    He  comes." 

One  of  the  large  doors  toward  the  farther 
end  of  the  hall  was  thrown  open,  and  through 
this  there  came  a  surge  of  music — hautboys, 
viols,  and  flutes.  Two  guardsmen  came  in, 
helmeted,  swords  drawn,  and  took  up  their 
stations  at  either  side  of  the  door. 

There  entered  the  duke. 

He  looked  the  philosopher,  perhaps,  if  not 
the  student — tall,  bent,  bony ;  a  brush  of  white 
129 


THE   TEN-FOOT   CHAIN 


hair  bristling  over  the  top  of  his  high  and  nar- 
row head ;  a  fleshless  face,  sardonic  and  humor- 
ous. The  guests  were  pleased  to  see  that  his 
mood  was  amiable.  He  came  forward  smiling, 
waved  his  musicians  into  retreat;  and  half  a 
dozen  valets  were  assisting  him  into  his  chair  as 
he  greeted  his  guests.  They  all  bent  the  knee  to 
him.  Some  kissed  his  hand — and  some  he 
kissed,  especially  those  who  were  fair  and  of 
the  opposite  sex. 

If  Princess  Gabrielle  had  shown  herself 
fragile  in  the  matter  of  her  affections,  well, 
she  had  come  by  her  failing  honestly. 

Seated  in  his  chair,  the  duke  delivered  him- 
self of  a  little  pun  which  convulsed  his  audi- 
ence— something  about  "court  and  courtship" : 
"Je  fais — la  cour." 

And  with  no  other  preliminary  he  spoke  to 
a  page: 

"Summon  mademoiselle" 

Then  to  another: 

"Fetch  in  the  smith." 

There  was  a  bitter  smile  on  his  face  as  he 

sank  back  into  his  chair  and  studied  the  forge 

set  up  in  the  fireplace.     The  imp  went  white 

under  his  smudge  and  worked  the  bellows  un- 

130 


THE   TEN-FOOT   CHAIN 

til  the  fire  on  the  hearth  was  spouting  like  a 
miniature  Vesuvius. 

The  wait  was  brief. 

Once  more  the  musicians  struck  into  the 
royal  march  of  Burgundy,  and  there  was  the 
Princess  Gabrielle. 

Every  one  who  looked  at  her  must  have  ex- 
perienced some  thrill  of  the  heart — envy,  de- 
sire, pure  admiration.  It  was  impossible  to 
look  at  her  without  some  emotion;  for  she 
was  eighteen,  slender,  white  and  passionate; 
with  dusky,  copper-colored  hair  hanging  in 
two  heavy  curls  forward  over  her  brilliantly 
tender  shoulders;  and  she  had  a  broad,  red 
mouth,  and  slightly  dilated  nostrils;  dark  eyes, 
liquid  and  heavily  fringed,  with  disquieting 
shadows  under  them. 

She  came  forward  with  a  number  of  maidens 
in  her  train,  but  she  so  dominated  them  that 
she  appeared  to  be  alone.  She  took  her  time. 
She  was  a  trifle  rebellious,  perhaps.  But  she 
was  brave,  not  to  say  bold.  She  tossed  her 
head  slightly.  She  smiled.  She  and  her 
maidens,  familiar  with  the  duke's  intentions, 
grouped  themselves  at  one  side  of  the  impro- 
vised forge.  Every  one  present  was  still  looking 
131 


THE   TEN-FOOT   CHAIN 

at  her  when  there  came  a  rough  command: 

"Stand  aside!" 

A  good  many  of  the  guests  were  not  in  the 
habit  of  hearing  orders  except  from  the  duke 
himself;  but  the  command  came  again: 

"Stand  aside!  Let  me  pass — me  and  my 
people!" 

At  that  there  was  a  rapid  shifting  of  the 
crowd  and  a  whispered  cry : 

"The  smith!    It's  Gaspard  the  smith!" 

And  he  attracted  even  more  attention  than 
the  princess  had  done;  for,  manifestly,  here 
was  not  only  a  man  who  could  play  the  game 
of  love,  but  could  play  the  game  of  life  and 
death  as  well — to  shout  out  like  this,  and  come 
striding  like  this  into  the  presence  of  his  ruler. 

But  he  looked  the  part. 

He  was  all  of  six  feet  tall,  blond  and  supple 
and  beautifully  fleshed.  He  was  wearing  his 
blacksmith's  outfit  of  doeskin  and  leather,  but 
he  was  scoured  and  shaven  to  the  pink.  His 
great  arms  were  bare;  and  the  exquisitely 
sculptured  muscles  of  these  slipped  and  played 
under  a  skin  as  white  as  a  woman's. 

He  stood  there  with  his  shoulders  back,  his 
arms  folded,  feet  apart.  But,  curiously,  there 
132 


THE   TEN-FOOT   CHAIN 

was  no  insolence  in  the  posture.  Insolence  is 
a  quality  pf  the  little  heart,  the  little  soul,  and 
shows  itself  in  the  eyes.  Gaspard  the  smith 
had  gentle  blue  eyes,  large,  dark,  fearless,  and 
with  a  certain  brooding  pride  in  them.  There 
may  have  been  even  a  hint  of  virgin  bashful- 
ness  in  them  as  well,  during  that  moment  he 
glanced  at  the  Princess  Gabrielle.  Then  he  had 
looked  at  the  duke,  and  all  his  courage  had 
come  back  to  him,  perhaps  also  a  suggestion  of 
challenge. 

But  neither  had  the  smith  come  into  the 
ducal  presence  alone. 

There  were  two  old  people — a  man  and  a 
woman,  peasants,  both  of  them  very  poor,  very 
humble,  so  frightened  that  they  could  breathe 
only  with  their  mouths  open;  and  so  soon  as 
they  were  inside  the  circle  of  guests,  they  had 
dropped  to  their  knees.  The  other  member  of 
the  smith's  party  would  have  done  the  same 
had  he  permitted.  This  was  a  -girl  of  twenty 
or  so,  likewise  a  peasant,  healthy,  painfully 
abashed,  but  otherwise  not  notable.  To  her  the 
smith  had  given  a  nudge  and  a  word  of  encour- 
agement, so  that  now  she  stood  close  to  him 
and  back  of  him. 

133 


THE  TEN-FOOT  CHAIN 


"Our  friends,"  said  the  duke,  with  studied 
nonchalance,  "we  are  about  to  present  to  you 
the  initial  operation  of  scientific  experiment. 
Like  all  scientific  research,  this  also  should  be 
judged  solely  by  its  possible  contribution  to  the 
advancement  of  human  happiness.  Our  self, 
we  feel  that  this  contribution  will  be  great. 
God  knows  it  is  concerned  with  a  problem  that 
is  both  elusive  and  poignant." 

All  this  was  rather  above  Gaspard's  head. 
He  turned  to  the  imp  at  the  bellows. 

"Stop  blowing  that  fire  so  hard,"  he  whis- 
pered. "You're  wasting  charcoal." 

The  duke  smiled  grimlv. 

"The  problem,"  he  continued,  "is  this :  Can 
any  man  and  woman,  however  devoted,  con- 
tinue to  love  each  other  if  they  are  too  closely 
held  together?" 

There  was  a  slight  movement  among  some 
of  the  younger  gentlemen  and  ladies  present — 
a  few  knowing  smiles. 

"There  have  always  been  those  who  an- 
swered No;  there  have  always  been  those  who 
answered  Yes,"  the  duke  went  on.  "Which 
were  right  ?"  No  answer.  "My  granddaughter 
here,  while  having  her  horse  shod  some  weeks 
134 


THE   TEN-FOOT   CHAIN 

ago,  became  enamored  of  this  worthy  subject 
of  mine."  He  nodded  toward  the  smith.  "She 
would  have  him.  She  would  have  no  one  else. 
We  knew  how  hopeless  would  be  any  attempt 
to  impose  our  will — in  an  affair  of  the  heart." 
He  smiled  gallantly.  "We  are  familiar  with 
the  breed." 

"Long  live  the  House  of  Burgundy,"  cried 
the  chivalrous  young  Vicomte  de  Macon.  But 
the  duke  silenced  him  with  a  look. 

"And  now,"  said  the  duke,  "we  wish  to  test 
this  so  great  passion  of  hers — test  it  under  con- 
ditions that  while  apparently  extraordinary  are 
none  the  less  classical  and  scientific.  Our  ex- 
periment is  this — " 

For  the  first  time  since  he  began  to  speak  the 
duke  now  leaned  forward,  and  both  his  face 
and  his  voice  took  on  that  quality  which  made 
his  name  a  source  of  trembling  from  Spain  to 
Denmark. 

"Our  experiment  is  this: 

"To  have  the  princess  and  her  smith,  whom 
she  is  so  sure  she  loves,  handcuffed  and  linked 
together  by  a  ten-foot  chain" 


135 


THE   TEN-FOOT   CHAIN 


II. 


THERE  was  a  gasp  from  the  audience.  Every 
one  stared  at  the  princess.  Even  the  duke  him- 
self. Without  turning  his  head  he  took  her  in 
with  his  furtive  eyes. 

"Mile,  la  Princess,"  he  said  icily,  "was  good 
enough  to  insist  upon  the  sacrifice." 

At  this,  a  stain  of  richer  color  slowly  crept 
up  the  throat  of  the  Princess  Gabrielle;  there 
came  a  touch  of  extra  fire  to  her  eyes.  Perhaps 
she  would  have  spoken.  But  the  duke  hadn't 
finished  yet. 

"We'll  see  whether  she  loves  him  so  much  or 
not,"  said  the  duke.  "We'll  give  them  three 
days  of  it — three  days  to  go  and  come  as  they 
wish — and  to  do  as  they  wish — together — al- 
ways together — bound  to  each  other  by  their 
ten- foot  chain." 

But  while  the  excitement  caused  by  the 
duke's  announcement  was  still  crisping  the 
nerves  of  every  one  present,  the  smith  had  cast 
one  more  glance  in  the  direction  of  the  Prin- 
cess Gabrielle.  And  this  time  their  eyes  met. 
There  were  those  who  saw  a  glint  of  terror — 
of  delicious  terror — in  the  eyes  of  the  princess; 
136 


THE   TEN-FOOT   CHAIN 

and  in  the  eyes  of  Gaspard  a  look  intended  to 
be  reassuring. 

Then  the  smith  had  unfolded  his  arms, 
thrust  them  forward. 

"Wait,"  he  cried. 

At  that  there  was  a  fresh  sensation. 

For  it  was  seen  that  one  of  his  wrists — his 
left — was  already  encircled  by  a  bracelet  of 
shining  steel,  forged  there  of  a  single  piece, 
and  that  to  the  bracelet  itself  there  was  forged 
a  link,  fine  but  powerful,  and  that  other  links 
ran  back  over  his  shoulder. 

"Ha!"  snarled  the  duke.  "So  you've  come 
prepared !" 

"By  the  grace  of  God!"  replied  Gaspard  the 
smith,  unafraid.  He  cast  a  look  about  him, 
brought  his  eyes  back  to  the  duke.  "Moi,  Gas- 
pard," he  said,  "I  forge  my  own  chains — al- 
ways !  I'm  a  smith,  I  am." 

The  two  old  people  kneeling  just  back  of 
him  began  to  sob  and  to  groan.  Gaspard 
turned  and  looked  down  at  them. 

"Shut  up,"  he  ordered;  "I'm  talking." 

He  smiled  at  the  duke.    He  explained. 

"You    see,    they're    frightened,"    he    said. 
"When  I  found  out  what  your  highness  and 
137 


THE   TEN-FOOT   CHAIN 

your  highnesses  lady-granddaughter  were  plan- 
ning up  here  in  the  castle,  why,  I  went  to  these 
old  folks  and  told  them  that  I  wanted  their 
daughter  Susette." 

"I  suppose  you  loved  her,"  the  duke  put  in 
with  ironical  intent. 

But  the  smith  saw  no  reason  for  irony. 

"Eh,  bon  Dieu!"  he  ejaculated.  "And  save 
your  highness's  respect,  we've  loved  each  other 
ever  since  we  were  out  of  the  cradle,  we  have. 
So  I  made  the  old  folks  consent.  I'm  a  smith, 
I  am.  I  forge  my  own  chains.  Stand  around, 
Susette !  His  highness  won't  hurt  you.  Look !" 

He  stepped  aside.  He  gave  a  gentle  thrust 
to  the  girl  who  had  been  sheltering  back  of  him. 
The  chain  rattled. 

And  there  was  another  cry  of  surprise. 

One  of  the  girl's  wrist's  also  was  ornamented 
with  a  steel  handcuff  tightly  welded.  Not  only 
that,  but  to  this  also  was  attached  a  chain. 
The  smith  threw  up  his  arm.  It  was  the  same 
chain  that  was  welded  to  his  own  handcuff — ten 
feet  of  it,  glistening  steel,  unbreakable. 

"There's  your  ten-foot  chain,  highness," 
cried  Caspar d.  "And  it's  no  trick-chain, 
either,"  he  added.  "It's  a  chain  that  will  hold. 
138 


THE   TEN-FOOT   CHAIN 


You  bet  it  will.  I  forged  it  myself,  and  I 
know.  It's  a  chain  you  couldn't  buy.  Why? 
Because — because  the  iron  of  it's  mixed  with 
love.;  Nor  can  it  be  cut,  nor  filed,  nor  broken. 
I'm  a  smith,  I  am.  And  each  link  of  it  I  tem- 
pered myself — with  sweat  and  blood." 

There  for  a  time  it  was  a  question — possibly 
a  question  in  the  mind  of  the  duke  himself — 
just  how  many  minutes  the  smith  still  had  to 
live.  Many  a  valet  had  been  executed  for  less. 
During  a  period  of  about  thirty  seconds  the 
duke's  face  went  black.  Then  the  blackness 
dispersed.  He  slowly  smiled. 

After  all,  he  wasn't  to  be  cheated  of  his  ex- 
periment. 

But  he  answered  the  question  that  was  in  his 
own  mind  and  the  minds  of  all  the  others  there 
as  he  looked  at  the  smith  and  said : 

"Fool,  you'll  be  sufficiently  punished — by 
your  own  device." 

He  let  his  eyes  drift  again  to  the  Princess 
Gabrielle. 

"And  thou,"  he  said,  "art  sufficiently  pun- 
ished already." 


139 


THE   TEN-FOOT   CHAIN 


III. 


IT  happened  to  be  a  day  of  late  spring;  and 
as  Gaspard  and  this  strangely  wedded  bride 
of  his  and  her  parents  came  out  of  the  castle, 
both  fed  and  forgiven,  it  must  have  seemed  to 
all  of  them  that  this  was  the  most  auspicious 
moment  of  their  lives.  The  old  folks,  who  had 
partaken  freely  of  the  generous  wines  pressed 
upon  them,  had  now  passed  from  their  trem- 
bling terror  to  a  spirit  of  frolic.  Arm  in  arm, 
their  sabots  clogging,  they  did  a  rigadoon  down 
the  winding  road.  It  was  a  spirit  of  tender 
elation,  though,  that  dominated  Gaspard  and 
Susette.  They  were  like  two  beings  distilled 
complete  from  the  mild  and  fragrant  air,  the 
sweet  mistiness  of  the  verdant  valley,  the  pur- 
pling solemnity  of  the  Juras. 

"What  did  he  mean,  his  highness?"  asked 
Susette  as  she  pressed  the  smith's  arm  closer 
to  her  side.  "What  did  he  mean  that  you'd 
be  punished  by  your  own  device  ?" 

Gaspard  looked  down  at  her,  pressed  her 
manacled  wrist  to  his  lips,  took  thought. 

"I  don't  know,"  he  answered  gently.     "He 
must  be  crazy.    It's  like  calling  it  punishment 
140 


THE   TEN-FOOT   CHAIN 

when  a  true  believer  receives  the  reward  of 
paradise." 

"You  love  me  so  much  as  that?" 

"Pardi!"  he  ejaculated.  "And  thou?" 

"So  much,"  she  palpitated,  "so  much  that 
when  you  looked  at  the  princess  like  that — I 
wished  you  were  blind !" 

At  the  bottom  of  the  hill,  the  old  folks,  Bur- 
gundians  to  the  souls  of  them,  happily  bade  the 
young  couple  to  be  off  about  their  own  affairs. 
They  knew  how  it  was  with  young  married 
people.  The  old  were  obstacles — so  they  them- 
selves well  recalled — albeit  that  was  more  than 
twenty  years  ago. 

Said  Gaspard  fondly :  "This  business  has  put 
me  back  in  my  work ;  but  we'll  call  this  a  holi- 
day. Shall  we  go  to  my  cottage  or  into  the 
forest  ?  I  know  of  a  secret  place — " 

"Into  the  forest,"  whispered  Susette.  "I 
don't  like  the  forge.  It  makes  me  think — 
think  of  that  cursed  princess — and  of  the  work 
that  almost  lost  you  to  me."  Her  blue  eyes 
filmed  as  she  looked  up  at  him.  "Oh,  Gaspard, 
I  also  have  dreamed  so  much — of  love — a  life 
of  love  with  thee!" 

There  was  no  one  there  to  see.  Some  day, 
141 


THE   TEN-FOOT   CHAIN 

perhaps,  in  the  far  distant  future,  this  part  of 
the  world  would  be  thickly  populated.  But  this 
was  not  yet  the  case.  Gaspard  brought  his 
bride  close  to  his  breast,  smiled  gravely  into 
her  upturned  face.  He  kissed  her  tears  away. 
Sweet  Susette!  She  was  such  a  child!  How 
little  she  knew  of  life ! 

And  yet  what  was  that  fragile,  fluttering, 
elusive,  tiny  suggestion  of  a  regret  in  the  back 
of  his  brain?  Now  he  saw  it;  now  it  was  gone 
— a  silver  moth  of  a  thought,  yet  one,  some 
instinct  warned  him,  was  there  to  gnaw  a  hole 
in  his  happiness. 

He  said  nothing  about  this  to  Susette,  of 
course;  he  chased  it  from  his  own  joy.  And 
this  joy  was  a  beautiful,  tumultuous  thing. 

"It's  like  the  source  of  the  Rhone,  which  I 
saw  one  time — this  joy  of  ours,"  he  said  with 
placid  rapture.  "All  sparkling  it  was,  and  wild 
cataracts,  and  deep  places,  clean  and  full  of 
mystery." 

"Ah,  I  want  it  to  be  always  like  this,"  said 
Susette. 

Gaspard  let  himself  go  in  clear-sighted 
thought.  They  were  seated  on  a  grassy  shelf 
that  overhung  the  great  river.  The  forest 
142 


THE   TEN-FOOT   CHAIN 

hemmed  them  in  on  three  sides  like  a  wedding- 
bower  fashioned  to  order;  but  here  they  could 
follow  the  Rhone  for  miles — with  its  drifting 
barges,  its  red-sailed  shallops,  its  hamlets,  and 
villages. 

"Yes,  ever  like  the  Rhone,"  he  said;  "but 
growing,  like  the  Rhone,  until  it's  broad  and 
majestic  and  strong  to  carry  burdens — " 

Susette  interrupted  him. 

"Kiss  me,"  she  said.  "Kiss  me  again.  No — 
not  like  that ;  like  you  did  a  while  ago." 

And  Gaspard,  laughing,  did  as  he  was  bid- 
den. But  what  was  that  silver  glint  of  some- 
thing like  a  regret,  something  like  a  loss,  that 
came  fluttering  once  more  across  the  atmos- 
phere of  his  thought?  Susette,  though,  kept 
him  diverted.  She  was  forever  popping  in 
upon  his  reflections  with  innocent,  childish 
questions ;  and  he  found  this  infinitely  amusing. 

"Did  you  desire  me — more  than  the  prin- 
cess?" 

"Beloved,  I  have  desired  you  for  years." 

"Did  you  think  me  more  beautiful — than 
she?" 

Again  Gaspard  laughed;  but  it  set  him  to 
thinking.  He  liked  to  think.  He  thought  at 
143 


THE   TEN-FOOT   CHAIN 

his  forge,  at  his  meals,  nights  when  he  hap- 
pened to  be  awake. 

"Love  and  beauty,"  he  said,  "these  are  cre- 
ated by  desire.  As  a  stone-cutter  desires  what 
is  hidden  in  the  rock,  and  hews  it  out  and  loves 
the  thing  he  shapes,  though  it  be  as  ugly  as  a 
gargoyle,  because  of  the  desire  that  brought 
it  forth— " 

"Do  you  think  that  I'm  a  gargoyle  ?"  queried 
Susette  hastily. 

"Certainly  not." 

"Then,  why  did  you  call  me  one?'* 
So  he  had  to  console  her  again,  and  took  a 
certain  joy  in  it,  although  she  protracted  the 
dear,  silly  dispute  by  telling  him  that  he  had 
chained  her  to  him  simply  so  that  he  could  tor- 
ture her,  and  that  he  had  wanted  to  spare  the 
princess  such  suffering,  and  that  therefore  it 
was  clear  that  he  loved  the  princess  more. 

"Why,  no,"  said  Gaspard;  "as  for  that,  she's 
really  in  love  with  that  young  Sieur  de 
Macon." 

But  thereupon  Susette  wanted  to  know  how 
he  came  to  be  so  well  informed  as  to  the  con- 
tents of  the  lady's  heart.     So  the  smith  gave 
over  any  attempt  to  reason,  except  in  the  si- 
144 


THE   TEN-FOOT   CHAIN 

lences  of  his  brain;  and  just  confined  his  outer 
activities  to  cooings  and  caresses,  as  Susette 
would  have  him  do. 

Yet  his  thought  would  persist. 

That  was  the  trail  of  a  great  truth  he  had 
almost  stated  back  there,  about  the  place  held 
by  desire  in  the  origins  of  love  and  beauty. 
He  had  watched  a  certain  Italian  named  Botti- 
celli do  a  mural  painting  in  the  duke's  private 
chapel.  Lord,  there  was  a  passion!  He  had 
helped  in  the  building  of  the  cathedral  at 
Sens.  Lord,  what  fervor  the  builders  put  into 
their  work!  They  were  all  like  young  lovers. 

The  smith  sat  up.  It  was  almost  as  if  he  had 
cornered  that  glinting  moth  of  doubt. 

Yes,  they  had  been  like  young  lovers — Sieur 
Botticelli,  in  pursuit  of  the  beautiful;  the 
church-builders  in  pursuit  of  God.  But — and 
here  was  the  point — what  if  their  desire  had 
been  satisfied?  The  quest  would  have  stopped. 
The  vision  of  the  artist  would  have  faded.  The 
steeple  would  have  fallen  down.  For  desire 
would  have  ceased  to  exist. 

"I'm  hungry  and  I'm  thirsty,"  said  Susette. 

He  kissed  her  pensively.    They  started  home. 


145 


THE   TEN-FOOT   CHAIN 


IV. 


"GASPARD!  Gaspard!" 

The  smith  sat  up  swiftly  on  his  couch. 

"What's  the  matter?"  he  demanded. 

All  the  same,  in  spite  of  certain  disquieting 
dreams,  it  struck  him  as  sweet  and  curious  to 
be  awakened  like  that  by  Susette.  But  he  per- 
ceived that  she  was  alarmed. 

"Some  one  hammers  at  the  door,"  she  said. 

Then  he  heard  it  himself,  that  thing  he  had 
already  been  hearing  obscurely  in  his  sleep. 

"Coming!"  he  yelled.  And  he  smilingly  ex- 
plained to  Susette :  "Its  my  old  friend,  Joseph, 
the  carter.  He'd  bring  his  work  to  me  if  he  had 
to  travel  five  leagues."  And  he  was  for  jumping 
up  and  running  to  the  door. 

"Wait,"  cried  Susette.  "I'll  have  to  go  with 
you,  and  I  can't  be  seen  like  this." 

'That's  right,"  said  Gaspard.  "That  con- 
founded chain !  I'd  forgotten  all  about  it."  So 
he  called  out  again  to  his  friend,  and  the  two 
of  them  held  quite  a  conversation  while  Susette 
tried  to  make  herself  presentable.  But  Gaspard 
turned  to  her  as  she  shook  her  hair  out  for  the 
third  time,  starting  to  rearrange  it.  "Quick!" 


THE   TEN-FOOT   CHAIN 

he  urged.  "He's  in  a  hurry.  One  of  his  horses 
has  cast  a  shoe." 

"You  can't  show  yourself  like  that,  either/' 
cried  Susette,  playing  for  time. 

"Me?"  laughed  Gaspard.  "I'm  a  smith.  I'd 
like  to  see  a  smith  who  couldn't  show  himself 
in  singlet  and  apron !" 

"You  look  like  a  brigand." 

But  he  merely  laughed :  "Joseph  won't  mind." 

And,  indeed,  Joseph  the  carter  did  appear 
to  have  but  little  thought  for  anything  except 
the  work  in  hand.  For  that  matter,  neither, 
apparently,  did  Gaspard.  After  the  first  few 
brief  civilities  and  the  inevitable  jests  about  the 
chain,  their  attention  was  absorbed  at  once  by 
the  horses.  There  were  four  of  these — Per- 
cherons,  huge  monsters  with  shaggy  fetlocks  and 
massive  feet;  yet  Joseph  and  Gaspard  went 
about  lifting  these  colossal  hoofs,  and  consider- 
ing them  as  tenderly  as  if  the  two  had  been 
young  mothers  concerned  with  the  feet  of 
babes. 

At  last  Susette  let  out  a  little  cry,  and  both 
men  turned  to  look  at  her. 

"I  faint,"  she  said  weakly. 

And  Gaspard  sprang  over  and  caught  her 
i47 


THE   TEN-FOOT   CHAIN 

in  his  arms.    He  was  filled  with  pity.  He  was 
all  gentleness. 

"Are  you  sick?"  he  asked. 

"It  was  the  odor  of  the  horses,"  Susette  re- 
plied in  her  small  voice. 

Joseph  the  carter  seemed  to  take  this  as 
some  aspersion  on  himself.  "Those  horses 
don't  smell,"  he  asserted  stoutly. 

But  Gaspard  signaled  him  to  hold  his  place. 
"You'll  be  all  right  in  a  second  or  so,"  he  told 
his  wife.  He  spoke  gently;  although,  as  a 
matter  of  fact,  he  himself  could  find  nothing 
about  those  magnificent  animals  to  offend  the 
most  delicate  sensibility.  "You'll  be  all  right. 
You  can  come  into  the  forge  and  sit  down 
while  I  shoe  the  big  gray." 

"That  will  be  worse  than  ever,"  wailed 
Susette. 

Josc-ph  the  carter  was  an  outspoken  man, 
gruff  and  honest. 

"And  there's  a  woman  for  you,"  he  said,  "to 
be  not  only  wed  but  welded  to  a  smith !  Nom 
d'un  tonnerre!  Say,  then,  Gaspard,  I'm  in  a 
hurry.  Shall  we  start  with  the  gray?" 

"Yes,"  Gaspard  answered  softly,  as  he  con- 
tinued to  support  Susette. 
148 


THE   TEN-FOOT   CHAIN 

"No,  no,  no!"  cried  Susette.  "Not  to-day! 
I'm  too  sick." 

"Mais,  cherie,"  Gaspard  began. 

"You  love  your  work  better  than  you  do  me," 
sobbed  Susette. 

"Nom  d'un  pourceau!"  droned  Joseph. 

"But  this  work  is  important,"  Gaspard 
argued  desperately.  "The  gray  has  not  only 
cast  a  shoe,  but  the  shoes  on  the  others  are  loose. 
They've  got  to  be  attended  to.  It's  work  that 
will  bring  me  in  a  whole  ecu!' 

"I  don't  care,"  said  Susette.  "I  can't  stand 
the  smell  of  those  horses,  and  I  could  never, 
never  bear  the  smell  of  the  hot  iron  on  their 
hoofs." 

"But  I'm  a  smith,"  argued  Gaspard. 

It  was  his  ultimate  appeal. 

"I  told  you  that  you  loved  your  work  more 
than  you  did  me,"  whimpered  Susette,  begin- 
ning to  cry.  "  'I'm  a  smith;  I'm  a  smith' — that's 
all  you've  talked  about  since  you  got  me  in  your 
power." 

Joseph  the  carter  went  away.     He  did  so 

shaking  his  head,  followed  by  his  shining  Per- 

cherons,  which  were  as  majestic  as  elephants, 

but  as  gentle  as  sheep.    There  was  a  tugging  at 

149 


THE   TEN-FOOT   CHAIN 

Gaspard's  heart  as  he  saw  them  go.  Such 
horses!  And  no  one  could  shoe  a  horse  as 
could  he.  He  looked  down  at  Susette's  bowed 
head  as  she  lay  there  cuddled  in  his  arms.  That 
despairing  cry  was  again  swelling  in  his  chest : 
"But  I'm  a  smith."  He  silenced  it.  He  stroked 
the  girl's  head. 

As  he  did  so,  he  was  mindful  as  never  before 
of  the  clink  and  jangle  of  the  chain. 


V. 


WHAT  do  you  want  me  to  do?"  he  asked 
that  afternoon  as  they  lay  out  in  the  shade  of 
the  poplars  along  the  river  bank. 

"I  want  you  to  love  me,"  she  answered. 

"I  do  love  you.  But  we  can't  live  on  love — 
can  we,  Susette  ? — however  pleasant  that  would 
be.  I've  got  to  work." 

"Ah,  your  sacre  work !" 

"Still,  you'll  admit  that  you  can't  pick  up 
ecus  in  the  road." 

"You're  thinking  still  of  that  miserable 
carter." 

"No;  but  I'm  thinking  of  his  horses.  Some- 
body's got  to  shoe  them.  You  can't  let  them 
150 


THE   TEN-FOOT   CHAIN 

go  lame — or  be  lamed  by  a  bungler.  I  could 
have  done  that  job  as  it  should  have  been 
done." 

"But  I  tell  you,"  declared  Susette,  pronounc- 
ing each  word  with  an  individual  stress,  ''I 
can't  support  the  grime  and  the  odors  and  the 
racket  of  your  forge.  You  ought  to  find  some 
work  that  I  do  like.  We  could  collect  wild 
salads  together — pick  wild-flowers  and  sell 
them — something  like  that." 

Gaspard  sighed. 

"But  a  man's  work  is  his  work,"  he  averred. 

"There  you  go  again,"  said  Susette,  and  the 
accusation  was  all  the  more  damning  in  that  it 
was  spoken  not  in  anger,  but  in  grief.  "Now 
that  I've  given  myself  to  you — done  all  that 
you  wished — you  want  to  get  rid  of  me;  you 
want  me  to  die." 

"Haven't  I  told  you  a  thousand  times,"  cried 
Gaspard  softly  and  passionately,  "that  I  love 
you  more  than  any  man  has  ever  loved  any 
woman?  Haven't  I  spent  whole  days  and 
nights — yes,  years — of  my  life  desiring  you? 
Haven't  I  proven  it?  Come  into  my  arms, 
Susette.  Ah,  when  I  have  you  in  my  arms  like 
this—" 

151 


THE   TEN-FOOT   CHAIN 

"And  it's  only  like  this  that  I  know  happiness, 
my  love/'  breathed  the  girl.  "Yes ;  I'm  jealous ! 
Jealous  of  everything  that  can  take  you  from 
me,  body  or  spirit,  if  even  for  a  moment.  All 
women  are  like  that.  We  live  in  jealousy. 
What's  work?  What's  ambition,  honor,  duty, 
gold  as  compared  with  love?" 

But  late  that  night  Gaspard  the  smith  roused 
himself  softly  from  his  couch.  He  lay  there 
leaning  on  his  elbow  and  stared  out  of  the 
window  of  his  cottage.  Susette  stirred  at  his 
side,  undisturbed  by  the  metallic  clinking. 
Otherwise  the  night  was  one  of  engulfing,  mys- 
tical silence. 

Just  outside  the  cottage  the  great  river  Rhone 
flowed  placid  and  free  in  the  light  of  the  young 
moon.  Up  from  the  river-bottoms  ran  the 
vine-clad  slopes  of  Burgundy  as  fragrant  as 
gardens.  There  was  no  wind.  It  was  all  swoon 
and  mystery. 

"Lord  God !"  cried  Gaspard  the  smith  in  his 
heart. 

It  was  a  prayer  as  much  as  anything — an 
inspiration  that  he  couldn't  get  otherwise  into 
words. 

He  was  of  that  race  of  artist-craftsmen  whose 
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THE   TEN-FOOT   CHAIN 

forged  iron  and  fretted  steel  would  continue 
to  stir  all  lovers  of  beauty  for  centuries  to  come. 

"It's  true,"  that  inner  voice  of  his  spoke 
again,  "that  desire  is  the  driving  force  of  the 
world.  Twas  desire  in  the  heart  of  God  that 
led  to  creation.  'Tis  so  with  us,  His  creatures — 
desire  that  makes  us  love  and  embellish.  But 
when  desire  is  satisfied,  then  desire  is  dead,  and 
then — and  then — " 

And  yet,  as  he  lay  there,  buffeted  by  an 
emotion  which  he  either  would  not  or  could  not 
express,  his  eyes  gradually  focused  on  the  castle 
of  the  great  Duke  of  Burgundy  up  there  on  top 
of  the  hill — washed  in  moonlight,  dim  and 
vast;  and  it  was  as  if  he  could  see  the  Princess 
Gabrielle  at  her  casement,  kneeling  there,  com- 
muning with  the  night  as  he  was  doing. 

Did  she  weep  ? 

He  had  caught  that  message  in  her  eyes  as 
she  had  looked  at  him  up  there  in  the  castle 
hall — had  seen  the  same  message  before. 

But  never  had  she  looked  so  beautiful — or 
as  she  looked  now  in  retrospect — skin  so  white, 
mouth  so  tender,  shape  so  stately,  yet  so  slim 
and  graceful.  Oddly  enough,  thought  of  her 
now  filled  him  with  a  vibrancy,  with  a  longing. 


THE   TEN-FOOT   CHAIN 

And  brave!  Hadn't  she  shown  herself  to  be 
brave  though — to  stand  up  like  that  there  be- 
fore her  grandfather,  him  whom  all  Europe 
called  Louis  the  Terrible,  and  declare  herself 
ready  to  be  welded  to  the  man  of  her  choice! 
She  wouldn't  faint  in  the  presence  of  horses! 
And  where  couldn't  a  man  go  if  led  by  a  guard- 
ian angel  like  that?  Slaves  had  become  emper- 
ors ;  blacksmiths  had  forged  armies,  become  the 
architects  of  cathedrals. 

His  breathing  went  deep,  then  deeper  yet. 
The  sweat  was  on  his  brow.  He  sat  up.  He 
seized  the  chain  in  his  powerful  hands,  made  as 
if  he  were  going  to  tear  it  asunder. 

But  after  that  moment  of  straining  silence 
he  again  lifted  his  face. 

ffSeigneur-DieuS'  he  panted;  "if — if  I  only 
had  it  to  do  over  again !" 

VI. 

IT'S  Gaspard  the  smith,"  said  the  frightened 
page.    "He  craves  the  honor  of  an  interview." 
The  duke  looked  up  from  his  parchment. 
"Gaspard  the  smith?" 

The  duke  was  seated  before  the  fireplace  in 
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THE   TEN-FOOT   CHAIN 


the  hall.  The  forge  had  been  removed;  and 
instead  there  were  some  logs  smoldering  there, 
for  the  morning  was  cool.  But  his  glance  re- 
called the  circumstances  of  his  last  encounter 
with  the  smith.  The  watchful  page  was  quick 
to  seize  his  cue. 

"He  comes  alone,"  the  page  announced. 

The  duke  gave  a  start,  then  began  to  chuckle. 

"Tiens!  Tiens!  He  comes  alone!  'Tis  true, 
this  is  the  time  limit  I  set.  Send  the  creature  in." 

And  his  highness  continued  to  laugh  all  the 
time  that  the  page  was  gone.  But  he  laughed 
softly,  for  he  was  alone.  Presently  he  heard 
a  subdued  clinking  of  steel.  He  greeted  his 
subject  with  a  sly  smile. 

Most  subjects  of  Louis  the  Terrible  would 
have  been  overjoyed  to  be  received  by  their 
sovereign  so  graciously.  But  Gaspard  the  smith 
showed  no  special  joy.  He  wasn't  nearly  so 
proud,  either,  as  he  had  been  that  other  time  he 
had  appeared  before  his  lord.  He  bent  his  knee. 
He  remained  kneeling  until  the  duke  told  him 
to  get  up.  The  duke  was  still  smiling. 

"So  my  three  days  were  enough,"  said  his 
highness. 

"Enough  and  sufficient,"  quoth  the  smith. 
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THE   TEN-FOOT   CHAIN 

Now  that  he  was  on  his  feet  again  he  was 
once  more  the  man.  He  and  the  duke  looked  at 
each  other  almost  as  equals. 

"Tell  me  about  it,"  said  Louis. 

"Well,  I'll  tell  you/'  Gaspard  began;  "you 
see,  I'm  a  smith." 

"But  incapable  of  forging  a  chain  strong 
enough  to  hold  a  woman." 

"I'm  not  so  sure,"  Gaspard  replied.  "It  was 
a  good  chain." 

He  put  out  his  left  wrist  and  examined  it. 
The  steel  handcuff  was  still  there.  Up  and 
back  from  it  ran  the  chain  which  the  smith 
had  been  carrying  over  his  shoulder.  He  hauled 
the  chain  down.  He  displayed  the  other  end 
of  it,  still  ornamented  by  the  companion  bracelet. 

"What  happened?  How  did  she  get  out  of 
it  ?"  queried  the  duke. 

"She  got  thin,"  Gaspard  responded  with  mel- 
ancholy. "She  didn't  want  me  to  work.  She 
wanted  the  money  that  I  could  earn.  Yes.  She 
even  wanted  me  to  work.  But  it  had  to  be  her 
kind  of  work;  something — something — how 
shall  I  say  it? — something  that  wouldn't  inter- 
fere with  our  love." 

"And  you  didn't  love  her?" 
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THE   TEN^FOOT    CHAIN 

"Sure  I  loved  her,"  flared  the  smith.  "Eh— 
ban  Dieu!  I  wouldn't  have  coupled  up  with 
her  if  I  hadn't  loved  her;  but,  also,  I  loved 
something  else.  I  loved  my  work.  I'm  a  smith. 
I'm  a  shoer  of  horses,  a  forger  of  iron,  a 
worker  in  steel.  I'm  what  the  good  God  made 
me,  and  I've  the  good  God's  work  to  do ! 

"So  after  a  certain  amount  of  honeymoon  I 
had  to  get  back  to  my  forge.  Joseph  the  carter, 
his  Percherons ;  who  could  shoe  them  but  me  ?" 

"And  she  didn't  like  that?" 

"No.  When  I  made  her  sit  in  my  forge  she 
pined  and  whined  and  refused  to  eat.  I  was 
crazy.  But  I  did  my  work.  And  this  morning 
when  I  awoke  I  found  that  she  had  slipped 
away." 

"You  were  already  enchained,"  said  his  high- 
ness, "by  your  work." 

The  smith  misunderstood. 

"You  can  see  it  was  no  trick  chain,"  he  said, 
holding  up  the  chain  he  himself  had  forged  and 
playing  with  the  links. 

"Aye,"  said  the  duke,  for  he  loved  these 

philosophic  disquisitions,  when  he  was  in  the 

mood  for  them.    "Aye,  chains  are  the  nature  of 

the  universe.     The  planets  are  chained.    The 

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THE   TEN-FOOT   CHAIN 

immortal  soul  is  chained  to  the  mortal  body. 
The  body  itself  is  chained  to  its  lusts  and 
frailties." 

"I'm  a  smith/'  said  Gaspard,  "and  I  want  to 
work." 

"We're  not  happy  when  we  are  chained," 
the  duke  continued  to  reflect  aloud.  "But  I 
doubt  that  we'd  be  happier  were  our  chains  to 
disappear.  No,  matter."  He  regarded  Gaspard 
the  smith  with  real  benignancy.  "At  least 
you've  proven  the  fatal  quality  of  one  particular 
chain — the  thing  I  wanted  to  prove.  And — 
you've  saved  the  princess." 

"  'Twas  of  her  I  wanted  to  speak,"  Gaspard 
spoke  up.  "This  is  a  good  chain.  I  forged  it 
myself." 

"Yes,  I  know  you're  a  smith,"  said  the  duke. 

"Well,  then,"  said  Gaspard,  "I've  been  think- 
ing. Suppose — now  that  I've  still  got  it  on 
me — that  we  try  it  on  the  princess,  after  all." 
He  noticed  the  duke's  look  of  amazement.  "I'm 
willing,"  said  Gaspard.  "I'm  willing  to  have 
another  try — " 

"Dieu  de  bon  Dieu!"  quoth  the  duke.    "Never 
content!"      He    recovered    himself.      He  felt 
kindly  toward  the  smith.  "Haven't  you  heard  ?" 
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THE   TEN-FOOT   CHAIN 

he  demanded.  "The  princess  has  forged  a  chain 
of  her  own.  She  eloped  with  that  young  Sieur 
de  Macon  the  same  day  you  declined  to  chain 
her  to  yourself." 


159 


